Category: English

I had always played the role of a quiet, ordinary stay-at-home mom at my daughter’s elite private school. That was until the day I found a hidden micro-camera disguised as a vent in the girls’ restroom. My daughter Chloe’s teacher scoffed at me, saying Chloe was too flat for anyone to care about anyway, and that being recorded was practically a blessing for her. The principal tried to bribe and threaten me with Ivy League recommendation letters, telling me to be the bigger person and let it go. The school board trustee’s wife was even more arrogant, trying to completely ruin Chloe’s life with a deepfake AI-generated explicit video. They all thought we were just helpless, penniless nobodies they could easily crush. What they didn’t know was that my “useless” husband, who was always too busy to even show up for parent-teacher conferences, was actually Adrian Vance—the most feared, undefeated defense attorney in New York City. The moment he stepped onto the campus with a fleet of elite lawyers, those high-and-mighty hypocrites finally learned the true definition of despair.

Finding that camera was a complete, spine-chilling accident. It was Lincoln High School’s annual Parent Volunteer Day. As a parent volunteer, I was assigned to deep-clean the hidden corners of the academic building. When I walked into the girls’ restroom at the end of the third floor, I caught the faint, chemical scent of cheap air freshener. I looked up. My eyes fell on the ventilation grate in the very last stall. At the edge of the vent’s metal slats, there was a tiny, highly unnatural black bump. If I hadn’t been standing on the edge of the toilet seat to wipe the upper wall, it would have been impossible to spot from below. My heart skipped a beat. A cold, sickening feeling crawled up my spine like a venomous snake. I reached out and pried off the tiny black plastic cover. Click. A micro-camera, barely the size of a fingernail, popped out. Attached to the back of it was a wireless transmitter card, blinking with a faint, mocking red light. At that moment, the blood in my veins froze. This was the girls’ restroom. This was where Chloe came every single day. I gripped the warm camera so hard that my fingernails dug deep into my palms. I didn’t make a scene. Instead, I immediately slipped out of the school under the pretense of running an errand and drove straight to a nearby computer repair shop. “Extract everything from this memory card. Now. Please,” I told the technician. My voice was shaking violently. Seeing how pale I was, the shop owner didn’t ask questions. He quickly plugged the card into his reader. As the folder loaded, rows upon rows of video files flooded the screen. Sorted by date, there were hundreds of them. With trembling hands, I clicked on the most recent video. The camera shook a bit—clearly, someone was adjusting the angle during installation. Then, a face covered in acne, wearing a disgusting, smug grin, filled the screen. I knew him. Stephen Howard. The untouchable golden boy of the elite class, son of the school board trustee, Victor Howard. He was also Chloe’s classmate. The video continued, angling directly toward the toilet. What came next made my stomach churn. Dozens of girls in high school uniforms, completely unaware, were recorded in their most private moments. And then, I saw Chloe. She was looking down, reciting her biology notes, completely oblivious to the demonic eyes watching her from above. “My God… this is a major felony! Should we call the cops?” the shop owner gasped, his face turning pale. “Make two backup copies of everything on a flash drive. Give me the original card,” I said, inhaling deeply to suppress the blinding rage threatening to consume my sanity. I couldn’t just go to the police yet. The Howard family practically owned this city. If I just handed the evidence over to the local precinct, they would easily pull strings to bury it, or worse, turn it against us. I had to go to the school first and see where they stood. Holding the flash drive tightly, I ran back out into the bright, blinding sunlight. The war had just begun.

I marched straight into the faculty office. Chloe’s teacher, Ms. Gable, was sitting at her desk, sipping artisanal coffee while browsing designer bags on her phone. When she saw me burst in, out of breath, she frowned. An undisguised look of annoyance flashed in her eyes. “Chloe’s mom? Parent Volunteer Day is over. Why are you running into my office instead of helping outside?” I walked up to her desk, slammed my hands on the surface, and stared directly into her heavily powdered face. “Ms. Gable, I just found a hidden micro-camera in the third-floor girls’ restroom.” I kept my voice low, but every word was laced with steel. Ms. Gable’s hand froze over her phone, but she quickly put it down, completely unbothered. There was no shock, no anger, no concern. Instead, she let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “And here I thought the sky was falling.” She grabbed a tissue and slowly wiped her lips. “Listen, Eleanor. Midterms are next week, and the boys are under a lot of academic pressure.” “A few mischievous boys pulling a prank to blow off steam is perfectly understandable. We shouldn’t overreact.” I could not believe my ears. Spying on the girls’ restroom and violating the privacy of dozens of underage girls was just a “prank to blow off steam”?! “Ms. Gable, this is a sex crime!” My voice rose, drawing stares from the other teachers in the room. Ms. Gable’s face darkened. She stood up, crossing her arms, and looked down her nose at me. “Watch your mouth! Let’s not use such dramatic words to scare people.” She looked me up and down, her eyes dripping with condescension. “Besides, even if there was a camera, they’d only be filming the pretty girls with actual figures.” “With Chloe’s flat, boyish body and those oversized sweaters she wears, even if she was caught on camera, who would even want to watch that?” “If you want attention, find a better excuse. Stop making a scene just to get noticed!” I laughed out of sheer shock. It was utterly absurd. This was a teacher at a prestigious private academy? It turned out Ms. Gable wasn’t just a social climber—she was completely devoid of human decency. “Since you think it’s such a minor issue, I wonder if you’ll be just as forgiving when you see this.” I smiled coldly, pulled out my phone, and played a video right in front of her face. The video didn’t just show the girls. It showed Ms. Gable herself. In the footage, she walked into the restroom, climbed onto the toilet seat, and carefully adjusted the camera’s angle. She even looked directly into the lens and flashed a sickening, sycophantic smile. Ms. Gable’s face turned instantly white. Even her thick makeup couldn’t hide the ghostly pallor of her skin. She lunged forward, trying to grab my phone. I stepped back swiftly, slipping the phone back into my pocket. “What’s the matter? Nervous now?” I sneered. “As a teacher, you didn’t just cover for a predator—you actively helped him adjust his lens.” “Ms. Gable, your lack of morals is truly a work of art.” Ms. Gable glared at me, her eyes filled with venom. She didn’t look like a teacher anymore; she looked like a cornered snake. “Eleanor, don’t you dare push your luck!” “You think you can threaten me with a cheap video?” “Let me tell you something. The boy who installed that camera is Stephen Howard!” “His father is the school board trustee, a very powerful man!” “If you expose this, not only will your daughter become the laughingstock of the entire city, but she’ll also lose her enrollment. She won’t even be allowed to take her midterms!” “The Howards have a hundred ways to make sure you and your daughter can never show your faces in this state again!” She was trying to use raw power and victim-blaming to shut me up. If I were just a regular, helpless single mother, her words might have terrified me. But looking at her twisted, ugly face, I only felt deep disgust. “Chloe is the victim here. The ones who should be hiding in the dark are rats like you!” I had no interest in wasting more breath on this trash. I turned on my heel. “Since you refuse to do your job, I’ll go straight to the principal.” “Let’s see who really runs Lincoln High School!” Behind me, Ms. Gable shrieked in rage: “Go ahead! Let’s see if the principal sides with the school’s biggest donor, or a broke, hysterical housewife like you!”

The door to Principal Higgins’ office was slightly ajar. When I pushed it open, Higgins was sitting behind his massive mahogany desk, casually enjoying a cup of freshly brewed espresso. When he saw me enter, his relaxed smile instantly vanished. Clearly, Ms. Gable had already warned him on WhatsApp. “Eleanor, Ms. Gable has already briefed me on the situation,” Higgins said, pointing to the leather sofa across from him. His tone was warm, but it carried the heavy, unyielding weight of authority. I didn’t sit. I stood right in front of his desk, looking down at him coldly. “Since you already know, how does the school plan to handle this disgusting criminal act?” Higgins sighed, putting on a show of deep sorrow as he took a sip of his coffee. “Eleanor, you’re using very extreme language.” “Kids nowadays are just overly curious. They lack proper boundary education.” “I’ve already called Stephen into my office and given him a very stern warning.” “He deeply regrets his actions and has assured me that all the videos have been permanently deleted.” “Midterms are next week. These kids’ futures are what matter most.” “For the sake of Chloe’s reputation, I think we should handle this quietly and internally.” Handle it internally? I slammed the flash drive onto his mahogany desk with a loud thud. “Principal Higgins, this drive contains crystal-clear footage, and that camera had a cloud-upload feature!” “Your simple ‘he deleted them’ doesn’t guarantee these videos aren’t already circulating on the dark web!” “It doesn’t guarantee the safety of those innocent girls!” “This is a felony. You cannot just sweep this under the rug!” Higgins’ expression went cold. He set his coffee cup down, his mask of warmth slipping away to reveal the ruthless businessman underneath. “Eleanor, don’t be so stubborn. You need to know when to let things go.” He stood up, walked over to me, and lowered his voice. “Stephen’s father just donated a ten-million-dollar science center to this school.” “Stephen himself is on track for an Ivy League admission.” “If you insist on making a scene, what does Chloe gain? Nothing.” “If the Howards decide to use their influence, Chloe’s three years of hard work here will go down the drain in a second.” It was a blatant, shameless threat. They wanted to trade my daughter’s future for a predator’s safety. Rage surged through me, hot and suffocating. “Principal Higgins, you are actively protecting a criminal! Aren’t you afraid of what happens when I go to the media?” Higgins let out a dry, mocking laugh, looking at me like I was an idiot. “Go ahead. Try.” “Lincoln High’s PR team is world-class, and the Howard family’s legal department is even better.” “Think about how the media will spin Chloe’s story. The public doesn’t care about the truth; they care about drama.” “How does this headline sound? ‘Climbing the Social Ladder: Schoolgirl Tries to Seduce Billionaire’s Son, Invents Fake Slander After Rejection.’” “You’d be driving your own daughter to the edge of a cliff, Eleanor.” Every word was designed to cut a mother’s heart. He knew exactly what a mother feared most. He opened his desk drawer, pulled out a pre-prepared non-disclosure agreement, and slid it toward me. “Sign this NDA. The school will guarantee Chloe’s graduation with top honors, a stellar recommendation letter, and $100,000 in cash for ‘mental distress.’” “Take the money, let your daughter focus on her exams, and everyone wins.” I looked down at the agreement. Every clause was written to protect the predator, demanding that we waive all rights to sue. This was their version of justice. Using wealth and power to step on the dignity of ordinary people. I grabbed the agreement, looked Higgins dead in the eye, and ripped it to shreds. Rip. The paper confetti drifted to the floor, like a eulogy for the school’s dead conscience. “Go to hell with your win-win deal!” I pointed a finger straight at Higgins, my voice dropping to a deadly whisper. “I see this place for what it is now. This prestigious school is nothing but a dumpster of filth.” “You won’t handle it? Fine.” “We are nowhere near done. Just watch me.” I turned and stormed out, slamming the door on his furious shouts.

I didn’t call the police right away. I knew that against a powerhouse like the Howards, if the evidence wasn’t airtight and absolute, they would easily slip away. I called Chloe out of school for three days and kept her at home. The moment we got home, I contacted an old friend from my journalism days—a highly skilled ethical hacker. I sent him the IP address of the cloud transmitter card and asked him to track where the uploaded videos were going. But while I was frantically gathering evidence, a muffled scream came from Chloe’s bedroom. I burst inside. Chloe was staring at her phone, shaking like a leaf in autumn, tears streaming down her pale face. “Chloe, what’s wrong?” I asked, grabbing the phone from her hands. It was her class Snapchat group. Stephen had posted a heavily pixelated screenshot. Even though the critical areas and her face were blurred, the tear on the school blazer in the photo was unmistakable. Chloe had accidentally torn it a few days ago, and everyone in class knew it. Stephen: [Wow, someone acts like a saint in class, but turns out she’s quite the wild one in private. ] Boy A: [Damn, Stephen! You got the good stuff! Send the unblurred version!] Boy B: [Honestly, she’s so flat. Waste of data.] Girl C: [Omg, disgusting. I always knew she was a fake.] The group chat exploded with vulgar jokes, disgusting comments, and malicious rumors. Ms. Gable, the group administrator, did absolutely nothing to stop the cyberbullying. Instead, she posted a cold, formal announcement. Ms. Gable: [Everyone, focus on your midterms. Do not discuss non-academic matters here.] [Also, certain students need to reflect on their own behavior. There is no smoke without fire. Don’t bring shame to our class reputation.] On the surface, she was telling everyone to stay focused. In reality, she was throwing Chloe to the wolves. Chloe stared at the screen, her face completely drained of color. She couldn’t even cry anymore. She looked entirely broken, sitting on the edge of the bed with hollow, empty eyes. “Mom… why are they doing this to me?” “I didn’t do anything wrong. I just went to the restroom…” “How am I ever going to show my face again?” My heart felt like it was being ripped apart and thrown into boiling oil. I grabbed her phone and recorded a voice note straight to the group chat. “Stephen Howard, this is cyber harassment and distribution of explicit material of a minor. I have documented everything. Get ready to go to prison!” The group chat went dead silent. A second later, a direct message from Stephen popped up. [Who do you think you’re scaring? My dad plays golf with Deputy Chief Paul of the city police. Go ahead and report it, see what happens.] [If you go to the cops or say another word to anyone, the unblurred, high-def version of Chloe will be on every site in this state by tomorrow morning.] [Get Chloe ready to be famous! ] Pure, unchecked arrogance. This was the power his family’s wealth gave him—the belief that he could stomp on anyone’s dignity without consequence. I took a deep breath, turned off the phone, and looked at Chloe. I walked over, cupped her cold cheeks, and forced her to look me in the eyes. “Chloe, listen to me.” “You did nothing wrong. The ones who are wrong are that predator, the disgusting bystanders, and the corrupt teacher covering it up.” “The more you hide, the more they laugh. The more you fear them, the worse they will get.” “We are not running away.” Chloe shook her head violently, her eyes filled with terror. “No! Mom, please, I don’t want to go back there!” “They’ll laugh at me! I’d rather die!” I pulled her into a tight embrace, my tears finally slipping down. “Don’t worry. Mom is here. Even if I have to tear the sky down, I will not let them hurt you.” “Go change into your uniform. We are going to school right now.” “We are going to take back your dignity, proudly and publicly.”

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I was a complete pushover. I let myself get bullied by the school’s queen bee, and treated like a disposable toy by my trash ex. But then, a freak car accident happened. I swapped bodies with Asher, the most dangerous, unstable psycho at school. Trapped in his fierce, ruggedly handsome body, I finally learned what it felt like to be a total badass. Meanwhile, he was in my body—living even more lawlessly and ruthlessly than he ever did in his own. When the school’s queen bee cornered me in the pool locker room, trying to rip my swimsuit and film it for Snapchat, I didn’t even have time to panic. Through the steam, I watched “myself” kick the heavy locker room door off its hinges. “I” grabbed the queen bee by her perfect blonde hair, slammed her face-first into the deep end, and stared down at her with eyes like cold, poisoned daggers. “Touch her again, and I’ll make you drink this entire pool dry.” The sharp smell of chlorine mixed with warm, heavy steam, filling the indoor pool area. Asher, who was currently occupying my body, was cornered against the edge of the pool by Chloe, the school’s reigning queen bee. Chloe wore an expensive designer bikini that showed off her perfect curves. But in her hand, she was casually spinning a pair of sharp metal scissors. Her face, painted with flawless waterproof makeup, twisted into a cruel, smug sneer. “Oh, Hailey. A cheap, twenty-dollar swimsuit from Wish? You really think you belong in a place like this?” “You’re literally polluting our pool.” The group of minions surrounding her burst into high-pitched, mocking laughter. The sound echoed off the high tiled ceilings, grating on my nerves. “Chloe is way too nice,” one of them snickered. “She just wants to help you redesign it.” “A broke charity case like Hailey probably doesn’t even know how to swim.” “Let’s help her cool off today. Maybe she’ll finally learn her place.” Standing in Asher’s body just fifteen feet away, I felt the blood rush to my head. My ears rang. I wanted to charge forward. I wanted to rip that fake, pretty smile right off Chloe’s face. But this body belonged to Asher. I had no idea how to control this six-foot-one frame of explosive, heavy muscle. My legs felt like lead. I could only watch. But then, my own familiar, fragile, usually slouched body moved. Without warning, and without saying a single word, Asher took a sudden step forward. He was lightning fast. Before anyone could react, “I” grabbed Chloe by the wrist—the one holding the scissors. Snap. A sickening crack echoed through the air. Chloe’s arrogant smile instantly shattered. Her face contorted in agony as she let out a blood-curdling shriek. “Ah! My wrist! You crazy bitch, Hailey! Let go of me!” “I” didn’t answer. With a swift flick of the wrist, “I” snatched the scissors and tossed them into the deep end of the pool. Then, in one fluid motion, “I” grabbed Chloe by her carefully styled blonde hair. Without a shred of mercy, “I” dragged her like a dead dog toward the six-foot-deep water. Chloe’s scalp looked like it was about to rip off. Her screams pierced the entire facility. “Let me go! Hailey, you psycho! I’m going to kill you! My dad will have you expelled!” My actual arms were thin and pale, with blue veins clearly visible under the skin. But right now, they possessed a terrifying, absolute force. Splash! “I” didn’t hesitate. “I” planted a foot firmly into Chloe’s lower back and kicked her straight into the deep end. Water splashed everywhere, sending massive ripples across the pool. “Help… gulp… he—” Chloe thrashed wildly, her hands clawing uselessly at the water as she let out choked, desperate cries. She didn’t know how to swim. The onlookers stood frozen. The air in the room turned to ice. That included my trash ex-boyfriend, Tyler, who had just walked out of the locker room in his swim trunks. Tyler froze for a second before rushing over like a madman. He grabbed “my” shoulder, his face red and veins bulging in his neck. “Hailey! Have you lost your mind?!” “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?! Pull Chloe out right now!” “I” slowly turned my head. Using my own face—the one that had always looked timid, submissive, and eager to please—”I” looked at Tyler. But the eyes belonged entirely to Asher. It was the look of a predator staring at a corpse—filled with violence, contempt, disdain, and unmasked killer instinct. It was like an apex beast looking down at an insect. “Get lost.” The voice was low, carrying Asher’s signature gravelly, suffocating pressure. The temperature in the room felt like it dropped twenty degrees. Tyler actually flinched. A flash of pure terror crossed his eyes, and he instinctively let go of my shoulder, stumbling back two steps. “I” turned back to the pool, where Chloe was still flailing, her eyes rolling back after swallowing several mouthfuls of chlorinated water. “I” casually picked up a long-handled metal pool skimmer from the deck. With perfect precision, “I” hooked it under her bikini strap and yanked her upward just enough so her nose and mouth cleared the surface. Chloe gasped desperately for air, water streaming down her face. Her waterproof makeup was ruined, mascara running down her cheeks. Smudged, weeping, and shivering, she looked like a drowned rat. There was no trace of the proud queen bee left. The second she caught her breath, she opened her mouth to scream curses. But “I” flicked my wrist, pressing the metal pole down, shoving her head right back under the water. “Apologize.” “I” didn’t shout. The voice was calm, almost quiet, but it carried a chilling authority that cut through the silence of the room. “Gulp… bubble…” Chloe’s voice was muffled as a trail of desperate bubbles rose to the surface. “I” let go of the pole, watching her sink again, completely indifferent. “Apologize.” “I” slowly raised my hand, pointing directly at me—at the real Hailey standing inside Asher’s towering body. Every eye in the room instantly locked onto me. Their expressions were a mix of confusion, dread, and utter disbelief. Hailey was forcing Chloe to apologize to… Asher? What kind of twisted movie was this? Those two had never even spoken a word to each other before today! Tyler finally found his voice again, pointing a trembling finger at “me” and screaming hysterically: “Hailey, are you mentally ill?!” “You’re doing this to Chloe over a piece of trash like Asher?!” “Do you know who her dad is? He’s on the school board! You’re dead at this school!” “I” ignored him completely, not even throwing a glance his way. “I” just kept staring at Chloe, who was on the verge of passing out in the water. “I… I’m sorry… help… I’m sorry…” Chloe finally broke. In the face of actual drowning, her pride crumbled into dust. She wept and begged, her voice barely a whisper. Only then did “I” use the skimmer to drag her to the edge, hoisting her onto the wet tiles like a sack of garbage. Chloe collapsed on the floor, shivering violently and coughing up water, shaking like a leaf in the wind. “I” grabbed a clean white towel from a nearby lounge chair. Slowly, methodically, “I” wiped my hands. “I” cleaned every single finger with extreme care, as if I had just touched something deeply contaminated. Wiping finished, “I” tossed the towel aside and walked straight over to “Asher.” “Asher” looked at “me.” I looked at “myself.” Our eyes met, carrying a heavy, silent understanding. “I” suddenly reached out and grabbed “Asher’s” wrist. The grip was tight, almost rough, but there was a subtle, reassuring squeeze in the touch. “Let’s go.” “I” pulled “Asher” along. Under the terrified, silent stares of everyone in the pool, we turned and walked out. Our silhouettes looked defiant and untouchable.

We walked in silence across the noisy courtyard, avoiding the main paths until we reached the rooftop of the abandoned old science building. No one ever came up here. The wind was howling, making the weeds growing through the concrete rustle loudly. The air was chilly, but Asher’s body felt like a furnace, blood pumping hot through my veins. Asher leaned against the rusty iron railing. Using my hands, he habitually patted his pockets. Realizing there were no cigarettes, he clicked his tongue in annoyance and violently kicked an old wooden desk nearby. It was surreal. My face—usually looking down, quiet, timid, and plain—was now painted with arrogance, rage, and impatience. The raw intensity in his eyes made my gentle features look strikingly fierce, almost beautiful in a dangerous way. “Hey,” he spoke. The voice was high and feminine—my voice—but the tone was incredibly sharp and dominant, like he owned the world. “Are you always this much of a spineless coward? You just let people walk all over you?” I looked down. Using his large, calloused hands, I unconsciously scratched at the peeling paint of the railing. “I… I’m used to it.” “Used to it?” He let out a harsh laugh, as if he’d just heard the funniest joke in the world. His eyes pierced through me. “Is your spine made of jelly? Someone steps on you, and you ask them if their foot hurts? Are you a masochist?” His blunt words stung. A wave of intense frustration and hurt washed over me. My eyes burned, and my vision blurred. “What else was I supposed to do?!” I snapped, my voice cracking as tears threatened to spill from his eyes. “Chloe’s dad is a major donor and sits on the school board! Tyler always protects her!” “I’m just a scholarship kid. I can’t even afford a hospital bill if I get sick. How am I supposed to fight them?” “I just wanted to keep my head down, graduate, and get into college!” The floodgates opened, and memories of every humiliation I had endured rushed back. It started shortly after Tyler and I began dating. That was the first time Chloe targeted me. She had cornered me in the girls’ restroom stall and poured a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. Then she laughed as she threw my backpack and the study guides I had stayed up all night writing straight into the trash can. “Hailey, let me tell you a secret,” she had said, looking down at my shivering, soaked self. “Tyler told us that dating you is just a little charity project.” “A country bumpkin like you doesn’t even deserve to wipe my shoes.” “You think he actually loves you? Keep dreaming.” My face had flushed red back then. Shaking with anger, I had yelled, “You’re lying! Tyler isn’t like that! He loves me!” Chloe’s laughter had grown louder, sharp and mocking. “Oh, really? Hear it for yourself.” She pulled out her phone and played an audio clip. It was Tyler’s voice, surrounded by the loud music and chatter of a bar. His voice was incredibly clear. “Tyler, are you really dating that Hailey girl?” “She’s so plain. She probably doesn’t even know what Chanel is. Isn’t it embarrassing to be seen with her?” “Come on, guys, don’t roast me too hard,” Tyler’s voice laughed. “She’s naive. Easy to play. Think of it as charity—giving her a taste of what it’s like to be wanted.” “I’ll dump her when I get bored. Besides, Chloe’s been giving me attitude lately. I’m just using Hailey to make her jealous.” Those words had felt like a rusty blade, carving away my self-respect piece by piece, leaving me bleeding. Later, Tyler had found me. He held me close, his eyes dripping with sweet, fake tenderness. “Hailey, don’t listen to Chloe. She’s just jealous of us.” “I was just drunk and talking big in front of the guys. You know how guys are—we have egos.” “You’re the only one I care about. Please believe me.” And I had believed him. Like a pathetic, desperate fool, I had brainwashed myself over and over, choosing to trust him. Until today, when he pointed at my face and called me crazy, all to protect Chloe. Only then did I finally wake up. I was nothing but a toy to relieve his boredom. “What are you thinking about? Who are you crying for?” Asher’s rough voice snapped me out of my memories. I looked up at him, tears finally spilling over Asher’s sharp cheekbones. “Asher, why did this happen to us? How did we even swap?” He walked over to me. Using my short body, he had to look up to meet my gaze in his six-foot-one frame. “How the hell should I know? I crashed my bike into a guardrail last night. When I woke up, I was you.” He ran a hand through my long hair in frustration. Halfway through, he paused, as if worried about pulling the roots, and gently patted it down instead with a clumsy tenderness. “Alright, suck those tears back in. I hate crying girls.” He paused, looking at his own face on me with deep disgust. “And even though you’re wearing my face, seeing a guy cry is still repulsive.” Silence fell over the rooftop. The distant hum of the city drifted up to us. After a long moment, he zipped open my worn-out canvas bag, pulled out a battered notebook and a pen, and slapped them against my broad chest. “From now on, we write notes. Don’t talk to yourself in public unless you want people to think we’re schizophrenic and throw us in an asylum.” He tore a page out, pressed it against the brick wall, and scribbled furiously. When he finished, he slapped the paper onto my chest. The handwriting was sharp and chaotic, radiating pure arrogance: `[Starting tomorrow, you do exactly as I say.]` `1. Do not speak a single word to that idiot Tyler. Even looking at him makes me sick.` `2. If Chloe touches you again, beat her to a pulp. I’ll take the fall.` `3. Most importantly: Don’t embarrass my body. Stand up straight!` Looking at the note, my heart swirled with fear, confusion, and a tiny, hidden spark of comfort. I took the pen, my hand trembling as I wrote underneath his words: `[I don’t dare to.]`

He took the paper, and his brows instantly knitted into a tight knot. Using my face, he made an incredibly fierce expression that looked like he wanted to bite someone. He snatched the pen back, crossing out my words so hard the paper almost tore, and shoved it back into my hands. `[You don’t dare, but I do.]` My heart skipped a beat, my blood pumping a little faster. Apparently feeling that wasn’t enough, he grabbed the paper again and aggressively added one more line: `[Starting tomorrow, I’m teaching you how to be a monster.]` The next morning, golden sunlight filtered through the trees, casting shadows along the pathway of Silverwood Academy. I walked side-by-side with Asher into the classroom, currently occupying his towering body. This was the honors class. The students here were either ultra-wealthy heirs or top-tier scholarship geniuses like I used to be. Asher was the only anomaly—a “cancer” who got in solely because his family paid a massive donation fee, and who consistently occupied the very bottom of the grade. The moment we walked in, the noisy classroom fell dead silent. Every eye turned to us like searchlights. Whispers broke out immediately, like a swarm of buzzing flies. “Holy shit, look! Asher and Hailey walked in together!” “Did you hear about the pool yesterday? Hailey looked possessed. She almost drowned Chloe!” “I heard Chloe had nightmares all night.” “Seriously? Pussy Hailey dared to touch Chloe?” “Hasn’t she been following Tyler around like a lost puppy? Did getting dumped finally break her brain?” “Who knows? But look at her eyes now… they’re so cold. It’s creepy. She’s like a different person.” I felt “Asher” shoot me a warning glare. I could only steel myself, pull my shoulders back, and walk over to his seat—the permanently empty desk in the back corner by the window. My original seat was just diagonal to his, which he now claimed. He propped his legs up on the desk, looking incredibly relaxed and arrogant. Soon, the bell rang. In walked Mr. Vance, the most obnoxious teacher in the department. Mr. Vance had always hated me because despite how hard I studied, my physics grades were mediocre. Plus, I was quiet and easy to pick on, making me his favorite target whenever he wanted to make an example of someone. Today, he clearly wanted to reassert his authority in front of the class after the pool drama. He slammed his thermos onto the podium with a loud thud, his eyes locking onto “me” in the back row. “Hailey, stand up.” Asher stood up slowly, keeping his hands casually shoved into his pockets. His face was blank, his posture relaxed and dripping with a bad-boy attitude. “Look at your posture! You got the lowest grade in the class on yesterday’s physics quiz again.” “Stupid is one thing, but your attitude is unacceptable. Go to the board and solve this problem.” Mr. Vance pointed to a highly complex electromagnetic field problem on the blackboard, a smug smirk playing on his lips. It was an advanced challenge question. Forget about me—even the top student in AP Physics would need at least fifteen minutes of scratch work to solve it. The class turned to look at “me,” many wearing eager grins, waiting for the trainwreck. Chloe sat in the front row, wearing heavier makeup than usual to hide her pale face. She turned around, her eyes filled with spite and anticipation. My palms started sweating inside Asher’s body. I sat on pins and needles, terrified he would lose his temper and smash the podium. But Asher just glanced at the board, a trace of pure disdain flashing in his eyes. Then, under everyone’s gaze, he stepped out of the row and walked up to the board. His steps were steady, carrying an effortless, natural confidence. He picked up a piece of chalk. Without even reading the prompt twice, he began writing. No hesitation. No pausing to think. Lines of incredibly elegant, highly simplified formulas flowed onto the board. The clicking of the chalk against the slate sounded like a fast-paced battle march. He didn’t even use the standard curriculum method. Instead, he utilized college-level calculus, introducing a gradient equation for the non-uniform distribution of the Lorentz force, completely breaking down the complex electromagnetic motion. In less than two minutes, he tossed the chalk aside and brushed the dust off his hands. “Done.” He spoke using my voice—usually quiet and soft—but now it rang out clear, carrying an undeniable, absolute authority. The entire classroom went so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Mr. Vance’s smug grin froze, replaced by utter shock and disbelief. He pushed his glasses up his nose, staring at the steps on the board. His lips trembled, but no words came out. “Mr. Vance,” Asher said using my voice, his tone polite but dripping with subtle mockery. “This problem was taken from the AP Physics C tournament two years ago. But you left out a crucial premise in your given conditions—the non-uniform distribution of the Lorentz force.” “If we went by your uniform magnetic field condition, the particles would escape in the third quadrant, making a closed loop impossible.” “I took the liberty of adding a gradient condition where the magnetic induction changes with the coordinates, solved it with a second-order ordinary differential equation, and found the terminal velocity.” “Also, your textbook formula-stuffing method is incredibly clumsy. It’s a waste of time and lacks any mathematical beauty.” He finished speaking, and the entire room felt like it had entered a vacuum. Mr. Vance’s face turned red, then white, like a watercolor palette. He sputtered for a few seconds, unable to find a single argument. Because he knew “Hailey” was absolutely right. In fact, his solution was far more elegant than the official answer key. “Go… go back to your seat!” he barked, trying to salvage the last shred of his dignity. “Sure,” Asher replied casually, putting one hand in his pocket as he strolled back. As he passed Chloe’s desk, he paused for a fraction of a second, letting out a soft, mocking laugh. The students looked at “me” with completely different eyes now. The mockery was gone, replaced by awe. Tyler’s expression was the most complex. His eyes scanned “me” up and down, as if seeing me for the very first time, a predatory spark of conquest lighting up his eyes. Sitting in the back, I looked at “my” own back from Asher’s body. For the first time in my life, I realized that my own body could look so bright, so radiant, and so utterly untouchable.

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Because of a pet custody battle, my lawyer husband, Ethan Vance, was suing me for the eighth time. During the trial, Ethan finally compromised and sent me a Snapchat message: [Name your price. Just give Peaches to Chloe.] He used to be a man of absolute integrity. To avoid a conflict of interest, he had watched my dad get framed and sent to prison without lifting a finger. But now, to help Chloe steal a dog we raised together, he had forged twenty-six pieces of evidence. He forged Peaches’ birth certificate and purchase records. I had refused to back down, fighting him through seven bitter court battles. But to everyone’s shock, this time, I remained silent. “Your Honor, I yield. I won’t fight anymore.” Then, I sent Ethan a message: [My only condition is that you appeal and reopen my dad’s embezzlement case.] Across the courtroom, Ethan let out a sigh of relief. But what he didn’t know was that hidden inside the custody transfer papers he just signed was a set of divorce papers. “Give me the password to the pet’s Instagram account. I’m deleting it,” Ethan ordered, catching up to me outside the courtroom. He always thought I ran that account just for clout and views. But he failed to see that my camera was always pointed at him. It was a record of our happiest moments. I handed him my phone and watched him tap “Delete” without a second thought. An account with nearly a million followers vanished in an instant. “If we kept it, your crazy fans would definitely harass Chloe. It’s better to avoid the drama.” Ethan waved the forged evidence in my face before tossing it into the trash can. A smug, victorious smirk played on his lips. He looked like a man who had just won a war. Except I was the casualty. Chloe cuddled into Ethan’s arms, holding Peaches’ leash. She looked cute, innocent, and utterly pitiful. “Ethan, I promise this is the last time I’ll be selfish.” Then she blinked her big, watery eyes, looking at me with a pleading expression. “I just love Peaches so much. Stella, you won’t blame me, right? Please forgive me.” She tilted her head, her triumph barely concealed. There wasn’t a shred of genuine remorse in her eyes. Peaches was a Samoyed that Ethan and I had raised since she was a puppy. She had witnessed our entire journey—from our first date to our wedding, spanning eight long years. Ethan once told me, “Stella, we’re going to raise her forever. You’re her mom, and I’m her dad.” I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug into my palms. Yet Ethan just gently ruffled Chloe’s hair, his voice dripping with tenderness. “You get whatever you want, Chloe. It’s just a dog.” The sudden deletion of our million-follower account sent shockwaves through our online community. [Peaches has been Stella’s dog since day one! How could she belong to someone else?] [Is this some cheap publicity stunt?] [This girl literally stole the dog, and her lawyer husband is helping her do it?] As the backlash grew, Chloe looked visibly humiliated. Ethan immediately went online to defend her. He posted on Instagram: [My wife lost her mother at a young age, and her father is currently in prison. It’s natural for her to seek attention, which is why she’s been hoarding my adoptive sister’s dog.] My painful past, the shame of my family, was dragged into the spotlight for millions of strangers to see. My phone blew up with a torrent of hateful messages. Ethan wrapped his arm around Chloe as they walked ahead, laughing and chatting. “Peaches is so white and fluffy, just like you.” “Are you calling me a dog? You’re the Golden Retriever here!” Their voices faded into the distance. Ethan didn’t notice me pulling out my phone to text the hospital. “Hi, I’d like to book an appointment for an abortion.”

The next day, Ethan and I were supposed to meet to discuss my dad’s appeal. I waited outside his office for three agonizing hours. Finally, his secretary walked out with a conflicted expression. “Mrs. Vance, Mr. Vance is tied up with something urgent and won’t be back for a while. Maybe you should…” Holding a stack of evidence half my height, all the strength drained from my body. The papers slipped from my hands, scattering all over the floor. The statute of limitations for my dad’s case was expiring in just three days. I got down on my knees, desperately scraping the papers together. Just then, my phone buzzed with a notification. It was Chloe’s Instagram story. The background was a veterinary clinic. Ethan was right beside her, helping her deworm Peaches. [I told him I could handle this alone, but he insisted on skipping work to be with me. Is this what it feels like to be cherished? Last year, when my appendix ruptured, Ethan refused to set foot in the hospital. He had simply messaged me: “I hate the smell of disinfectants.” My fingers gripped the phone so hard they turned white. I tried calling other lawyers, but they all politely turned me down. “Mr. Vance made it clear that since you’re his wife, helping you would be seen as a personal favor, which would compromise our professional ethics…” I carried the heavy files I had spent sleepless nights preparing and walked all the way home through the freezing wind. It was evening by the time Ethan finally returned. I was sitting on the sofa. “You promised to fulfill my condition. Help me appeal my dad’s case.” Ethan took off his coat and pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “Even if he was framed, the prosecutor’s evidence is airtight. Even if it’s fabricated, it’s flawless.” “Besides, I’ve been drowning in work lately. Can you at least give me some breathing room?” The words caught in my throat like a shard of glass. Just minutes ago, I had stumbled upon a new joint pet account he had created with Chloe. The videos showed them riding bikes with Peaches by the lake, watching the sunset together. The comment section was filled with adoration. [Ethan looks so happy here! Unlike in those old videos where he looked so miserable. Now this is a real couple!] [The previous account felt like a business partnership. So fake.] [They look so good together! I’m glad he cut ties with that old influencer.] … He didn’t look like a man “drowning in work.” I slammed the heavy stack of files onto the coffee table. Swallowing the bitterness in my throat, I said, “You can focus on your work for the next two days.” “Just show up at the courthouse the day after tomorrow.” His rejection was instantaneous and cold. “I can’t make it the day after tomorrow. It’s Chloe’s birthday.” Before I could argue, he added, “Tomorrow doesn’t work either. Chloe and I are shooting a video, and I need to write the script tonight.” Tears finally spilled over. “My dad can’t wait! He has a severe heart condition!” Ethan closed his eyes, exhaling a sigh of utter exasperation. “Stella, I’m going to be blunt.” “Your dad’s case is just a financial dispute. He’ll be out in a few years anyway. There’s no need to waste our time on this.” I stared at him in absolute disbelief. I couldn’t believe those words had come out of his mouth. Before I could speak, his phone rang. He answered it, and his expression instantly twisted into panic. “What? Your gastritis is acting up again?” “Hold on, I’m on my way.” Ethan spun around to leave, but I grabbed the edge of his coat. “Ethan, I need to tell you… I’m preg—” In the next second, he violently shook me off. “We’ll talk tomorrow! Chloe is in so much pain she can’t even speak. It’s an emergency!” He slammed the door shut without looking back. My stomach slammed hard against the sharp corner of the coffee table. A searing pain shot through me, and a dark, warm wetness began to spread across my pants. It was blood. Blinding, crimson blood. “Ethan…” My cry for help was cut short as the heavy front door slammed shut, echoing through the empty house.

When I woke up, I was in a hospital bed. “Ms. Miller, thank goodness your housekeeper found you and got you here in time. We had to perform an emergency D&C. You need to rest.” The doctor looked at my chart, her brow deeply furrowed. “Also,” she lowered her voice gently, “your body was already quite weak, making it hard to conceive. After this trauma… it’s highly unlikely you’ll ever be able to get pregnant again.” I clutched the hospital sheets, my chest tight with agonizing pain. The little life I hadn’t even had the chance to welcome had turned into a nightmare before it even started. The doctor hesitated. “Where is your husband? I need to speak with him.” I shook my head silently. I had tried calling him three times earlier, but his phone was completely switched off. That evening, I discharged myself and went home. The moment I stepped through the door, Peaches broke free from her leash and lunged straight into me. Chloe gasped, feigning shock as she covered her mouth. “Oh my gosh, Stella, I am so sorry!” “I was just training Peaches to guard the house. I didn’t expect you to walk in.” I leaned heavily against the wall, gasping from the sudden wave of pain. My unhealed surgical wound felt like it was tearing open, and a sharp, stabbing sensation ripped through my abdomen. Ethan didn’t even look at me. He just patted Chloe’s head. “It was the dog’s fault, not yours. Don’t worry about it.” White dog hair was flying everywhere in the living room. Ethan used to be an extreme clean-freak. He used to force me to keep Peaches locked in a crate. “If I find a single dog hair in this house, she’s gone,” he used to threaten. Now, the house was a mess, and he didn’t seem to care at all. Ethan looked at me, frowning. “You spilled ketchup all over the floor and didn’t even bother to clean it up. Chloe almost slipped. Where have you been anyway?” Looking down at the bloodstains on the floor—the blood he assumed was ketchup—I clutched my stomach. “None of your business.” His face stiffened, but he quickly cleared his throat. “Chloe wanted to film some TikToks at home. I’ve been busy shooting and editing for her, so I couldn’t check on you.” While my father’s case was driving me to the brink of insanity, and while I was losing our child, he was at home editing TikToks for Chloe. He used to tell me he hated video editing and didn’t have the time to learn. Yet now, he was staying up all night to edit every single frame of Chloe’s videos. I didn’t argue. I didn’t shout. I just slowly, painfully dragged myself to the bedroom to grab my father’s legal files. Ethan followed me inside. “If it can wait, the court date can be pushed to next week. I’ll have time then.” I didn’t even look up. “It can’t wait.” There were only two days left. If the deadline passed, my dad would have to spend another three years in prison. With his heart condition, three years was a death sentence. Ethan’s face hardened. “Can you stop being so difficult for once?” “Chloe is young and depends on me. I’m her brother; is it so wrong for me to take care of her?” My voice cracked. “My father is an old man in a prison cell. He needs to be taken care of too!” Ethan completely lost his patience. “To be honest, since he’s so old, staying in prison might actually be quieter for him. It saves us a lot of trouble.” I froze. Before he could even realize the cruelty of his words, I grabbed my things and turned to leave. Chloe stepped in front of me, raising three fingers playfully. “Stella, I swear, next week I won’t bother you guys even if the sky falls. Even if Ethan insists on staying with me, I’ll turn him down.” I let out a bitter laugh. “No need.” “I refuse to believe that in this entire city, I can’t find a single lawyer who isn’t intimidated by you, Ethan.” I turned and walked away. “Stella Miller!” Ethan yelled after me, but I didn’t look back. As I stepped into the elevator, my phone rang. It was Officer Carter, my contact at the prison. “Stella… the man who framed your father just added another five years to his sentence through false testimonies. Your father… he just had a massive heart attack!”

By the time I reached the prison gates, my entire body was shaking so violently I could barely stand. Officer Carter ran out to meet me, his face grim. “He’s stable for now, and the prison doctors are treating him. But the real issue is his mental state.” “If he has to serve another five years for a crime he didn’t commit, I don’t think his heart can take it…” Instantly, the blood in my veins ran cold. There was no time to find another lawyer. I had to swallow my pride and call Ethan. “My dad was framed again. You know every detail of his case. Please, just represent him in court this once. I’m begging you…” Ethan’s voice on the other end was icy. “The moment you run into trouble, you run back to me. Didn’t you say you could find plenty of other lawyers?” “And here I thought you were finally growing up and learning to be independent.” My fingers trembled as I gripped the phone, my voice cracking with desperation. “Just this once… I’ll owe you for the rest of my life…” There was a long pause on the line before he finally spoke: “I’m not being cruel, Stella. But what if your dad actually did embezzle that corporate money? I don’t want us getting dragged into his mess.” The line went dead. The sterile dial tone felt like the final nail in my coffin, crushing the very last shred of hope in my heart. I collapsed onto the curb, dialing number after number. I called every single law firm in the directory. “I’m sorry, Ms. Miller.” “We aren’t familiar with the case files. Reviewing everything would take at least a week, and with the court date tomorrow, we just can’t do it.” Just as I was about to completely break down, a Snapchat message from Ethan popped up: [Send me your location. I’ll come find you.] An instant rush of relief and joy washed over me. I quickly sent him my location and politely declined the couple of lawyers who had slowly started calling me back. I prayed silently, over and over, that the appeal would succeed. But I waited. For three hours, Ethan never showed up. I called him twice, but both times he hung up on me. Then, a message popped up: [Peaches accidentally bit Chloe. I’m at the clinic with her getting her a rabies shot. I can’t make it.] My brain went completely numb. Right after, another text arrived: [I’m sending you the contact info of a few good attorneys. You should reach out to them.] After sending a few phone numbers, his side went completely silent. The blood in my body turned to ice. At that moment, Officer Carter called from the prison. “Ms. Miller… your father suffered another sudden cardiac arrest. The doctors did everything they could, but… he didn’t make it.” “I am so incredibly sorry for your loss.” My father’s pale, lifeless face was covered by a white sheet. He lay there, cold and still. The air left my lungs, and my knees hit the floor. A guttural scream tore from my throat as the tears finally came. My only family left in this world was gone. Once my tears ran dry, I pulled out the divorce papers Ethan had unknowingly signed, penned my signature at the bottom, and blacklisted his number on everything. It wasn’t until Ethan returned to his law office days later that he finally remembered my father’s case. He called his assistant into the office. “Retrieve my father-in-law’s case files. Let me see if there’s any ground for an appeal.” The assistant lowered his head, stammering nervously. “Sir… Mr. Miller couldn’t survive the stress of the new charges. He suffered a massive heart attack and passed away in the prison hospital.” Ethan froze, suddenly standing up. “Also,” the assistant handed him a medical document, “Mrs. Vance left this for you.”

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I worked my butt off for three years to become the Design Director. But today, the General Manager handed the position to his newly graduated college mentee. He looked me in the eye and said, “Harper, you’re getting older. Your creativity and energy just can’t compete with the younger crowd. It’s time to step aside.” I fought back, my voice trembling. “But I led the team to complete every single major project in this company!” “That was because the company gave you the resources! It doesn’t prove your personal capability!” “Ethan! You know damn well—” “Harper! Call me Mr. Vance! At work, I am your superior, not your husband! Please cooperate with the company’s transfer!” Chloe chimed in, trying to play the peacemaker. “Ethan, maybe I should just give the position back to your wife. I don’t want to cause trouble.” Ethan didn’t even bother to correct her familiar way of calling his name. Instead, his voice softened significantly when he spoke to her. “Business is not a game, Chloe. I’ve already notified HR. It’s official.” “Just focus on your new role. I’ll personally teach you anything you don’t understand.” But when he turned his gaze back to me, his eyes were freezing cold. “You will continue to work on your current projects. When they’re done, just submit them to Chloe for approval.” So, I was supposed to do all the heavy lifting, while Chloe took all the credit. I looked at the face of this man—the man I had been married to for five years and worked with for eight. Suddenly, I laughed. “No need. I’m resigning right now.” I didn’t want the Design Director position anymore. And I didn’t want to be Mrs. Vance either.

When I walked back to my desk to draft my resignation letter, Ethan followed me. “You’ve been here for eight years, Harper. Don’t throw away everything you’ve worked so hard for just because you’re throwing a tantrum.” “You’re not a fresh graduate. Do I really need to teach you how the real world works?” So, he did know how hard I had worked to get everything I had. Yet, he chose to hand the fruits of my labor to another woman. My eyes burned, but my fingers didn’t stop typing. “Mr. Vance, this is working hours. Please do not micromanage your employee’s personal decisions.” His breathing turned heavy. Sensing the curious glances from the surrounding cubicles, he lowered his voice. “Do you have any idea how hard it is for someone your age to find a job? If you go out for interviews now, you’ll get filtered out in the first round!” “Stop being so naive!” I pulled the resignation letter from the printer and signed my name without a second thought. “Mr. Vance, will you sign it?” He snatched the paper, his face darkened with rage. “Harper, do you really have to push things this far?” “I’m not pushing anything. I just don’t want to work here anymore.” “There are still several projects that need your final touch. If you leave like this, what is Chloe supposed to do?” Finally, the truth came out. He didn’t care about me leaving; he just wanted me to pave a smooth road for his precious mentee before I vanished. I opened my laptop, uploaded the resignation letter, and hit send, CC’ing both Ethan and HR. “Can you approve it now?” “I don’t think you want me to personally explain to HR that you’re holding up my resignation because of our personal relationship, right?” I knew he hated mixing business with pleasure more than anything. In our eight years of working together, he never let me step into his office alone. If there was work, he would come to my cubicle to brief me. Even when I was sick, he never let me carpool with him to work. When I worked late and forgot to eat, he would rather send me a Snapchat message telling me to pick up takeout at the front desk than bring me a bite of food himself. I used to think there was nothing wrong with that. Keeping business and personal life strictly separated was our mutual rule. But since Chloe arrived, I realized that rules weren’t unbreakable. It just depended on who they were being broken for. She could eat with him in the cafeteria, and she could leave her personal belongings in his office. He would proudly introduce her to everyone: “This is my college junior, please take good care of her.” Yet, he never let anyone in the office know that I was his wife.

So, I was absolutely sure he wouldn’t let me go to HR. Sure enough, he loosened his tie, glaring at me as he spat out through his teeth: “Fine. Don’t regret this!” “I will personally oversee Chloe’s upcoming projects. Don’t think this company can’t run without you!” “You have one month to hand over all your work to Director Chloe. After that, I won’t stop you.” He turned and stormed back into the General Manager’s office before I could reply. Before the door slammed shut, the last thing I saw was him gently draping a blanket over Chloe, who was fast asleep on his office couch. My stomach churned. Even though I tried to act like I didn’t care, I couldn’t ignore the dull ache in my gut. But that didn’t stop me from grabbing my phone and sending a text to a contact: “I’ll resign in a month. Let’s meet to discuss the package.” It was late when I took two subway transfers and finally made it home. Ethan wasn’t back yet. Usually, he drove and I took the subway, so he was always home before me. I sat on the couch in the dark, quietly looking around the apartment we had lived in for five years. Back when we bought this place, Ethan wasn’t the General Manager yet. We were just ordinary designers. We saved every penny for a long time to afford the down payment on this condo. Even though it was far from downtown and had a terrible layout, I felt it was all worth it because it gave me a sense of belonging. But sitting here tonight, for some reason, it felt incredibly foreign. At 10:00 PM, Ethan walked through the door holding a cake box. I was slightly stunned. We didn’t have the habit of celebrating anniversaries. Maybe today’s fight made him feel uneasy, and he wanted to use this to smooth things over. Seeing me on the couch, he looked surprised. “You’re still awake?” I stood up and walked over. But my hand froze in mid-air. Half of the cake was gone. The heart-shaped center had been scooped out and eaten. I stared at it for a few seconds, making sure it wasn’t just some weird artistic design. He tossed the box onto the dining table carelessly. “I bought it to celebrate Chloe’s promotion, but she only took a few bites and said she was worried about the calories.” “I remembered you said you wanted cake the other day, so I brought the rest back for you.” My throat felt like it was blocked by a rock. I couldn’t make a sound. Years ago, to pay off the mortgage, I never bought any nice clothes. I wore hand-me-downs from my older sister. When I went to the grocery store, I only bought the bruised, discounted vegetables. But from the day we finally paid off the house, I told him: I, Harper, will never take anyone’s leftovers again. And now, he wanted me to eat a leftover cake that he had bought for another woman. As the sound of the shower started running in the bathroom, I unlocked my phone and began drafting a divorce agreement. The next morning, Ethan and I stood at the elevator door together. I looked at him, confused. This wasn’t his usual time to leave. He was smiling, texting on his phone, and said casually, “Chloe is having her period today and isn’t feeling well. I’m going to pick her up.” “If I remember correctly, her apartment is a forty-minute detour, right?” “It’s just forty minutes. Just a press on the gas pedal.” The elevator mirror reflected our faces. One was pale and exhausted, even with full makeup. The other was glowing, staring happily at his screen. My mind drifted back to a rainy day when I was shopping with my friend. It was pouring, and I called him to pick me up from the subway station. He had said, “Just Uber back. Driving out in this weather is too much trouble.” A ten-minute drive was “too much trouble,” but forty minutes was just “a press on the gas pedal.” When the elevator reached the lobby, he hesitated for a second. “Do you… want a ride?” I shook my head and stepped out. He looked relieved as he pressed the close button.

When the elevator indicator showed he had reached the parking garage, I pulled out my phone and called Chloe. “I’m taking the morning off.” “Reason?” she asked, sounding entitled. “Buying a car.” “Did you tell Ethan?” “No need.” By the time I hung up, I was already in a cab heading to the dealership. Browsing, test-driving, signing, paying, and taking the keys. It took less than half a day to get everything done. When I pressed the key fob and my new SUV beeped in response, a sense of liberation washed over me. That was when Ethan finally called. I picked up. “Harper! Buying a car is a huge deal! Why didn’t you discuss it with me?” “I used my own money.” “That’s not what I mean! Do you even know how to pick a good car? Come back now, I’ll go with you when I have time.” “You’ve been saying that for two years.” “But I still took the subway for two years.” The line went dead silent. When I parked the car at the company garage, Ethan was already waiting there. “You drove back alone? How long has it been since you last drove? Do you know how dangerous that is?” Looking at his anxious face, I almost laughed out loud. When the heavy rain flooded the subway station and I had to walk two miles home in the storm, he wasn’t worried. When I sprained my ankle and limped to the subway every day, he wasn’t worried. When I worked until 2:00 AM and took a cab home alone, he wasn’t worried. But now that I had my own car, he suddenly cared about my safety. “Ethan, I hired a driving instructor. I’ll be fine after a few laps.” He froze. In the past, if he scolded me like this, I would have argued back. I would have stayed up all night just to prove him wrong. But now, I was as calm as if I were answering what I had for breakfast. His expression hardened. “Harper, you… seem different.” A delivery guy interrupted us, running toward Ethan. Ethan stepped forward to take the paper bag. “Chloe didn’t eat lunch. It took me forever to convince her to drink a cup of coffee. Kids these days,” he mumbled, shaking his head with a fond smile. “Not like us back then…” I cut him off. “Yeah, not like us back then, when we couldn’t even afford a single cup of Starbucks.” His smile froze on his face. I didn’t stop. I walked straight past him and went to the office. At 4:00 PM, I was doing the handover with Chloe. Ethan walked in with two cups of iced coffee. I frowned. In eight years, this was the first time he had ever brought anything to my desk. I knew I was just benefiting from Chloe’s presence. She squealed with joy and threw her arms around his neck. Ethan instinctively caught her, but when his eyes met mine, he quickly pushed her away. “I was just worried you guys… might be thirsty.” Chloe took a sip, giggling. “Thanks, Ethan! You’re the sweetest!” “Since you cover all my meals, I’m saving so much money!” Ethan saw that I hadn’t touched my cup. “Why aren’t you drinking? Try it.” I pushed the cup away. “No thanks, Mr. Vance. Did you forget I’m highly allergic to caffeine?” His face turned sour. Seeing no one was looking, he lowered his voice. “This is exactly why I hate buying you things. You never give any positive feedback.” “Have you ever bought me anything?” I asked flatly. His Adam’s apple bobbed. He muttered something about “just trying to be nice” and walked away. I thought the handover would go quickly so I could leave early. But Chloe was way more difficult than I anticipated. I had already organized all client folders by industry standards and archived all design drafts.

She looked at the screen and sneered. “Your file formats are a mess. I don’t understand them.” “And you only have digital copies. What if the server crashes? I need you to handwrite the project sources and client contact details for every single account.” After two weeks of her constant rejection and nitpicking, I finally lost my patience and slammed my hand on the desk. Ethan, who had been playing deaf and dumb for days, immediately summoned us to his office. “Harper, what is your problem?” “Chloe is the Design Director now. You do what she says. I won’t sign your resignation until Director Chloe is completely satisfied!” Chloe gave me a smug look. Before leaving, she turned to me and said, “Oh, and bring a vanilla latte to my office, will you?” I crossed my arms and looked at Ethan. “Ethan, is this what you call keeping business and personal life separate?” “Harper, whether you like it or not, she is the Director now. If you embarrass her in public, how is she supposed to lead the team?” “If you’re done venting, get out. It doesn’t look good for us to be alone in here.” For the first time in five years of marriage, I felt suffocated standing in the same room with him. “According to labor laws, I am leaving in exactly thirty days. She can deal with it.” Before starting at my new job, I needed to pack, move, and sell the condo. I didn’t have time to play games with them. On my last day, my desk was completely cleared except for a coffee mug and my personal laptop. Since Ethan had to attend a conference at the headquarters today, he had signed my release forms yesterday. My offboarding was officially complete. After saying goodbye to some colleagues, I picked up my box, ready to walk out. But Chloe and a couple of security guards blocked the exit. “Harper, we suspect you have confidential company data on your personal laptop. We need to seize it for our IT department to inspect.” That laptop contained all my hard work from the past few years. I took it home with me every single day. There was no way I was letting them touch it. “I can show you the files here, but you are not taking my property.” Chloe let out a cold laugh. “You have a lot of new design templates and custom fonts on there, don’t you?” I froze. Those were the templates I created after deciding to resign, meant for my upcoming portfolio. I hadn’t told a soul. The only person who had access to my laptop password was Ethan. Chloe raised her voice, making sure the entire office could hear. “Some people have zero professional ethics. The company spent so much money training her, yet she refuses to hand over core materials.” “If everyone acted like this, how is our department supposed to function?” I had tried to leave peacefully, but that didn’t mean she could walk all over me. “This is my personal laptop. The templates and fonts are my original creations, developed in my own time. They have nothing to do with this company.” “You have no legal right to confiscate my work!” A few colleagues nearby started whispering in my defense. “Yeah, everyone knows Harper did most of the work here. Her drafts are always original. Why would she need to steal anything?” “Exactly. Someone’s just throwing their weight around.” Chloe’s face flushed with anger. She snapped at the guards, “What are you waiting for? Grab the laptop!” “If the company loses precious data, can you guys afford the damages?” She pointed a finger at the whispering staff. “Anyone who wants to follow her out the door is welcome to help her!” Everyone quickly looked down, pretending to be busy. Two guards grabbed my arms. Chloe easily unlocked my laptop using Ethan’s birthday. She clicked through a few folders, smirked, and said, “Well, nothing special anyway.” She held the laptop out to me. But my arms were pinned back by the guards. I couldn’t reach it. She smiled, opened her hand, and let the laptop drop. Crash. Then, she stepped on the screen with her sharp stiletto heel. The LCD screen shattered into webbed cracks.

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I was born without a uterus. It was a secret I kept from everyone, even my parents. On my eighteenth birthday, my parents found their biological daughter. At her welcome-home gala, the real heiress, Melody, held her champagne glass and clinked it against mine. The moment our glasses touched, a cold, mechanical voice rang clearly in my head: [Ding! Target detected: Seraphina Vance. Level: Top-tier beauty. Initiate plunder?] Melody screamed in her mind: [Yes! Plunder it all! Why does she get to enjoy my life so effortlessly?! I want it all back! Her face, her grace, everything!] [Command confirmed. Plunder initiated. Irreversible.] A moment later, a strange warmth bloomed deep in my lower abdomen. And Melody suddenly looked radiant, her skin glowing under the chandelier. She looked at me, a sweet, triumphant smile playing on her lips. “Sera, I hope we get along.” I met her eyes and curled my lips into a gentle smile. “Welcome home, Melody.” It was as if she had been digitally enhanced. Her features softened, her skin turned translucent, and standing under the light, she was breathtakingly beautiful. The guests began to whisper. “Was the real Vance daughter always this gorgeous?” “The Vance genetics are insane.” “Sera used to be the star, but tonight she looks… a bit faded, doesn’t she?” I heard it all. I looked at myself in the full-length mirror. My features were the same, but the sharp, captivating allure was gone. I looked like a porcelain vase that had lost its glaze. Still clean, but no longer priceless. Richard Vance quickly recovered, pulling Melody to the center of the room to introduce her to the crowd. “This is Melody. Our biological daughter. The true heiress of the Vance empire.” Melody stood in the center of the crowd, soaking in the admiration. Occasionally, she glanced at me, the smugness in her eyes barely concealed. I ignored her, set my glass down, and walked out onto the balcony. The night breeze brushed against me, but the warmth in my lower abdomen hadn’t faded. It felt completely foreign. When I was fifteen, I realized I was different from other girls. While they complained about period cramps and whispered about tampons, I had nothing. I secretly went to the hospital. The diagnosis was cold and absolute: Congenital absence of uterus and vaginal aplasia. MRKH Syndrome. From that day on, I locked that secret away. The Vance family arranged annual physicals for me, but I always paid a private clinic to falsified my gynecological records to avoid deep exams. I knew my family too well. If they found out I was sterile, my engagement to Julian Sterling would be instantly terminated. I would go from being the Vance family’s most exquisite ornament to their most embarrassing piece of trash. Halfway through the party, I went to the restroom to touch up my makeup. Just as I reached the corner, I heard Melody’s muffled, ecstatic laughter. She was hiding behind the terrace door, tracing her face with trembling fingers. “System, did it work?” The robotic voice rang again. [Top-tier beauty plunder complete.] [Transfer progress: 100%.] [Target Seraphina’s aesthetic aura has been significantly weakened.] Melody’s voice shook with excitement. “It’s irreversible, right? She can never take it back?” [Once the command is executed, it cannot be undone.] “Perfect.” She let out a low laugh. “Sera actually has a day like this. She occupied my spot for eighteen years. Why did everyone love her? Now, her face is mine. Next, I want her fiancé, her poise, and that high-and-mighty attitude she always has in a crowd.” I stood silently behind the wall, listening to every word. So, she was that happy. When a prey willingly bites the hook, the last thing you want to do is startle it. I gently placed my hand over my lower abdomen. A trace of that warm sensation still lingered there. It felt like a crack was being pried open in a place that had been frozen for eighteen years. Melody thought she was stealing my face. But she didn’t know. Once you start taking things that don’t belong to you, you can’t stop. And what I wanted was never just that face.

The next day, I went to the hospital alone. Eleanor Vance was too busy taking Melody to Tiffany’s to care about me. No one in the family had time for me anymore. Dr. Avery stared at my scan results for a long time. She pulled up my records from three months ago, comparing them side by side. Her professional composure cracked, replaced by utter disbelief. “Sera, have you undergone any experimental treatments recently?” “No.” She pushed the scan toward me. “This is medically impossible.” “What changed?” I asked. Dr. Avery lowered her voice. “Your previous diagnosis was clear: congenital absence of uterus. But today’s pelvic ultrasound shows… the formation of a uterine-like structure.” My fingertips tightened. “Is it fully developed?” “Not yet. It’s like a shadow, an outline. And the vaginal canal shows signs of lengthening.” She stared at me. “In medical history, a spontaneous reversal like this is practically nonexistent.” I looked down at the black-and-white scan. My eyes stung, but my abdomen felt warm. When I walked out of the hospital, my fiancé, Julian Sterling, was leaning against his car, holding a cup of warm water. “Why didn’t you call me to pick you up?” “Don’t you have to accompany Melody today?” He frowned. “Why would I do that?” I smiled and took the cup. “Just asking.” He studied my face, concern in his eyes. “You look pale.” “Just tired from the exams,” I replied softly. He opened the passenger door for me. “Let’s get you home.” As the car pulled away, I caught a glimpse of a figure in the rearview mirror. Melody was standing behind a concrete pillar in the hospital lobby, glaring at us. She looked even more beautiful today than yesterday. But the jealousy in her eyes was also far heavier. Once Melody got her new face, she was desperate to prove herself. She began showing up around Julian constantly. Eleanor played along perfectly. One day, she’d claim Melody was new to the high-society circle and needed Julian to guide her. The next day, she’d say Melody was feeling down and ask Julian to drop her off. Julian refused most of the time. His rejections were cold and direct. “I’m busy.” “Have your driver do it.” “Ask Mrs. Vance.” Every time, the smile on Melody’s face grew stiffer. I watched it all unfold and said nothing. At the end of the month, Julian’s mother, Victoria Sterling, hosted her birthday charity gala. Eleanor took Melody to pick out gowns three days in advance. They chose a haute couture silver gown for Melody, making her look like a rare winter rose. When it was my turn, Eleanor casually pointed at a plain, muted grey dress. “You shouldn’t wear anything too bright lately, Sera.” I nodded. “This is fine.” Melody stood in front of the mirror, smiling sweetly. “Sera looks elegant even in plain colors.” I met her gaze. “Thank you, Melody.” She hated how calm I was. She wanted to see me break. She wanted to see me lose my mind because I was losing my beauty. But the calmer I remained, the more anxious she became.

At the gala, Melody presented Victoria with a rare, vintage Cartier brooch. It was incredibly expensive. Victoria accepted it with a polite, polite “Thank you, how thoughtful.” When it was my turn, I handed over a modest, velvet box. Inside was a rare, first-edition sheet music folio of Chopin. At last year’s gala, Victoria had casually mentioned that her late grandmother used to play these exact arrangements. I had remembered. Victoria opened the box, and her eyes instantly softened. “Sera, how did you find this?” “I got lucky at an auction.” She pulled me down to sit next to her, asking how I had been. Melody stood a few feet away, her face darkening by the second. She had the perfect face now. But Victoria still wouldn’t look at her. Halfway through the dinner, I went to the terrace for some fresh air. Through the half-open glass door, I heard Melody cornering Julian. “What does she have that I don’t?” Julian’s voice was deadpan. “Melody, you don’t need to compare yourself to Sera.” “Why not? I am the biological Vance daughter! She is just an imposter! Even her face isn’t as beautiful as mine now. Why are you still looking at her?” A few seconds of silence followed. Then Julian spoke, his tone chillingly indifferent. “Because she is Seraphina.” That one sentence crushed Melody’s pride into dust. A second later, I heard her calling her system in her mind. [I want whatever it is that keeps Julian obsessed with her.] [I want her sexual allure. Her feminine attraction.] The system’s voice warned: [Warning. This attribute is deeply bound to the target’s intimate relationships, reproductive expectations, and physical costs. Plundering will result in an irreversible transfer of these physical conditions.] Melody grit her teeth. “Do it.” A sharp, electric sting spread from deep within my lower abdomen. I gripped the terrace railing. It wasn’t painful. It felt more like a heavy, suffocating lock was finally being clicked open. When Melody stepped out from behind the door, her face was slightly pale, but her eyes were manic. She saw me and smirked. “Sera, what are you doing out here?” “Getting some air.” She stepped closer, whispering, “Don’t you think the wind is freezing tonight?” I smiled gently. “Is it? I actually think spring is coming.” The next day, I fainted in the campus library. Melody immediately rushed over to hold me, her eyes red as she sobbed, “Sera, we are family. Please stop pushing me away.” The moment her arms wrapped around me, the system initiated the final phase of the extraction. My vision went black, and my ears buzzed. When I woke up in the clinic, the doctor said it was just low blood sugar. Melody was sitting by my bed, holding my hand. “Sera, you scared me to death.” She put on a flawless performance. Several classmates around us were visibly moved. “Melody is actually so sweet to her.” “Yeah, there’s no need for the adopted sister to be so hostile.” I pulled my hand back. “I need to use the restroom.” The moment the stall door locked behind me, I looked down. There was a spot of blood on my underwear.

I stared at it, frozen. For eighteen years. I was seeing my very first period. My throat tightened, and tears hot and fast blurred my vision. An overwhelming wave of ecstasy flooded my chest. I had a uterus. I gently touched my abdomen. I could finally be a normal woman. I could fall in love, get married, and carry my own child without carrying the weight of being “defective.” My phone buzzed. It was Julian. He called me by his usual nickname. “Sera.” But his next words were completely different. “Melody was crying for hours.” I said nothing. His voice dropped, carrying a hint of frustration. “She genuinely wants to make peace with you. Why do you have to humiliate her?” I gripped the phone. “I humiliated her?” “Sera, stop acting clueless,” he snapped, accusing me for the first time. “She just came back to the family. She’s insecure. You’ve enjoyed the Vance lifestyle for eighteen years, and you’re engaged to me. You took so much from her. Do you really have to play the victim now?” I listened to his voice—once so familiar, now so cold. It was like watching a cherished photo get splattered with mud. “So?” I asked. “I’m coming over to your house tonight,” he said. “The engagement was always an alliance between the Vance and Sterling families. Now that the real daughter is back, the engagement should be returned to her.” Returned to her. He said it so casually. As if my eighteen years of life were just a coat I was keeping warm for Melody. “Is this your decision?” I asked quietly. “Yes.” He paused, delivering the final blow. “It’s only fair to everyone.” I let out a soft laugh. “You change fast, Julian.” He was silent for a few seconds. When he spoke again, his tone was icy. “Don’t use that tone with me, Sera. You used to be reasonable.” I hung up. When I returned to the Vance estate that evening, Julian was already there. Melody was sitting next to him, his jacket draped over her shoulders. Eleanor looked relieved. Richard looked pleased. Seeing me walk downstairs, Julian stood up. “Sera, we need to talk.” “No need,” I said. “I heard you on the phone.” He frowned. “Good.” In front of my parents, he placed the Sterling family engagement ring on the coffee table. “Mr. and Mrs. Vance, I’d like to officially transfer the engagement to Melody.” Eleanor gasped, her face lighting up with joy. Melody’s eyes welled with tears. “Julian…” Julian looked at me. His eyes no longer held any warmth, only a condescending pity. “Sera, you need to understand your place. Melody is the true Vance. You’ve enjoyed eighteen years of a life that didn’t belong to you. Don’t stand in her way now.” The living room fell into a suffocating silence. I looked at him. He was completely under the system’s influence. I smiled faintly. “Okay.”

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1 Seven years after I left Nathan Vale, I became the most authoritative hypnosis specialist in the country. Today, I received a confidential consultation request from another province. When I pushed open the door to the consultation room, a storm had just begun outside. In the dim therapy chair sat a man tormented by insomnia. It was Nathan. He slowly opened his eyes and broke the awkward silence with a dry voice. “Summer… have you been well all these years?” Holding his medical file, I smiled with polite distance. “Fortunately, yes. Everything has been fine.” He watched me calmly close the file, pain flashing through his eyes. “You’re different now. Before, whenever it thundered or rained, you never dared to be alone.” I smiled and didn’t answer. Actually, nothing had changed. I had only stopped leaving any part of my emotions for him. Putting away my pocket watch, I slowly pushed the medical file back in front of him. “Mr. Vale, I can’t perform hypnosis on you.” His fingers, resting on the armrest, trembled violently. It wasn’t emotional shaking. It was involuntary tremor caused by long-term neurasthenia. His hand knocked over the glass on the table. The glass shattered against the tile, the sound swallowed by a clap of thunder. Nathan stumbled up from the therapy chair. His hand reached across my desk, fingers spread, trying to cover my ears. Muscle memory from seven years ago. I didn’t even lift my eyelids. I pressed the intercom. “Jade, come clean this up.” His hand froze in midair. Thunder rumbled outside. I continued flipping through the next client’s file. He stared at my calm profile as I turned the pages. Slowly, the hand hovering in the air withdrew and clenched into a fist, his knuckles taut. My assistant pushed the door open and bent to pick up the broken glass. Nathan still stood there. “Summer, I can pay double.” “It isn’t about money.” “Triple.” His voice was dry and hoarse, soaked in exhaustion. “I really haven’t slept through a full night in almost three months.” I didn’t respond. I opened the drawer. My fingertips touched a metal casing. I took it out and placed it on the desk. An old pocket watch. The moment Nathan’s gaze landed on it, his breathing stopped. His throat moved, but he said nothing. I saw an unreal flicker of light ignite in his eyes. He thought I kept the watch because I was sentimental. I picked it up, turned it half a circle in my palm, and snapped it down on the desk. “If Mr. Vale really wants sleep, the psychiatric department is down the hall to the left. Ask for heavy sedatives.” I tore off a sticky note, wrote down a few numbers, and pushed it toward him. “Refusal consultation fee. Finance will send you the invoice later.” He didn’t look at the note. He stared at my fingers, at the pocket watch I had slapped casually onto the desk. His mouth twisted into an expression uglier than crying. “That watch is broken.” His voice trembled hoarsely. “I’ll buy you a new one.” I didn’t answer. I simply turned the watch over and opened the back cover with my thumb. Inside the cover was a place where words had once been engraved. Three words. Nathan loves Summer. Now those words were unrecognizable. The metal had been scraped again and again by something sharp, leaving grooves of different depths, like wounds that had failed to heal. All color drained from Nathan’s face. I knew what he had remembered. I stared into his bloodshot eyes. “It wasn’t just the watch that shattered.” My voice was very soft. “It was someone’s nerves too. You haven’t forgotten that, have you, Nathan?” It was as if someone had shoved him hard from behind. He staggered backward and hit the therapy chair. He didn’t even take an umbrella. He yanked open the door and stumbled into the rain at the end of the corridor. I picked up the pocket watch again and pressed my thumb against the scratches. Seven years. Memory was like a rusted floodgate. In that moment, it loosened with a crash. I heard Nathan’s voice again. Not the hollow, nearly begging voice from moments ago. The voice from seven years earlier. Warm, carrying the scent of mint, pressed against the top of my head. “Summer, don’t be afraid.” “I will always be your safest fortress.” Seven years ago, I was twenty-two. It was the third year Nathan had kept me by his side. Thunderstorms triggered my illness. It wasn’t ordinary fear of thunder. It was true post-traumatic stress. When I was little, my stepfather had locked me in a leaking basement for three days. Ever since, whenever lightning flashed, my limbs would spasm uncontrollably. That day, thunder struck from four in the afternoon until dawn. I curled inside the master bedroom closet, wrapped in his coat. The sound of the door lock turning came at 11:03 p.m. Nathan rushed into the bedroom, soaked from head to toe, ink stains still on the cuff of his suit. He opened the closet door and saw me shaking in the corner. Without a word, he bent and scooped me up, holding me in his arms. His chest trembled. His body heat came through his drenched shirt. “Summer.” “Look at this.” He took out a custom pocket watch from his pocket, opened the back, and held it by my ear. The second hand ticked softly and steadily, one beat after another, like another calm heart. “Listen to this. Not the storm outside.” His chin rested against the top of my head, his voice lowered. I clutched his shirt and refused to let go, nails digging into the fabric. “Never leave me.” He placed the watch into my palm and wrapped his hand around mine. “Even if I’m crushed to dust.” Only those words. I believed him. I used those words as a foundation and built every definition of safety upon them. But another thunderstorm came three months later. I held that pocket watch and sat on the living room sofa all night. The second hand ticked thirty-two thousand times. His phone had been turned off since eight in the evening. At 5:40 a.m., the door lock finally turned. He pushed the door open, collar loose, carrying a strong sandalwood scent that did not belong to him. It was the perfume used by Bianca Vale, his boss’s daughter. I had smelled it at the company banquet. I could identify it from three tables away. He saw me sitting on the sofa and paused. “Why aren’t you asleep?” His eyes swept over the watch in my hand, then quickly moved away. “The company system had issues. I spent the whole night in the server room.” He tugged at his tie and walked toward the bathroom. “The perfume rubbed off by accident. There were lots of people around.” I didn’t move. I placed the watch on my knees and pointed at the storm still churning beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. “Do you know how I got through last night?” He stopped, but he didn’t turn around. In the past, at moments like this, he would turn back, pick me up, and cover all my panic with his warmth. This time, he stood where he was and tugged at his tie. His voice carried something it never had before. “Summer, you’re not a child anymore. You need to learn to handle these things yourself. Stop being so immature.” His phone screen lit up on the entryway cabinet. I saw the message preview. The sender was saved as a white gardenia emoji. “Thank you for staying with me last night. I felt so safe.” It was as if an invisible hand had seized my heart. “You lied to me.” I heard my own voice shaking. “Bianca, right? Are you going to abandon me and marry her?” Nathan’s expression changed. Not guilt. Not panic. It was a kind of irritated impatience I had never seen on his face before. He came back, pressed one hand onto my shoulder, and pushed me against the sofa back. His strength wasn’t great. But the gesture itself chilled my spine. “You’ve been too tense lately.” He leaned down, his gaze like he was examining a malfunctioning machine. “I think you’re hallucinating.” He went to the kitchen and poured a glass of water. When he returned, white powder was still visible at the bottom of the glass, swirling in tiny currents. He held the water to my lips. “Drink it. Sleep.” His thumb brushed the corner of my mouth. The touch was light. So was his voice. “When you wake up, we’ll get married.” I didn’t drink it. I knocked the glass away with the back of my hand. Water spilled across the carpet. The white powder dissolved into a cloudy stain. Nathan straightened and stared at the wet patch for five seconds. Then he took out his phone and dialed a number. “Seal all exits.” Within ten minutes, the villa’s security system switched modes. Door locks, window locks, garage gates, every path leading outside locked at once. He took away my phone. The reason was that I needed rest. For half a month, I did not see complete daylight once. The bedroom curtains were nailed shut. The remote was removed. But early autumn thunderstorms came like clockwork, every other day. Every time lightning pierced through the gap in the curtains, I shook uncontrollably. My nails nearly dug through my palms. During the day, Nathan was gone. When he came home at night, he sometimes brought me a slice of my favorite cheesecake. He sat by the bed, fed me with a fork, and wiped cream from the corner of my mouth with his thumb. His movements were exactly the same as before. As if nothing had happened. As if I could leave at any time. On the eleventh day, the housekeeper forgot to lock the kitchen door after bringing dinner. The living room TV was on. I saw the screen. A press conference. Nathan stood onstage. Bianca held his arm, wearing a crisply tailored white suit. Reporters shoved microphones almost into his face. Nathan turned slightly, looked at the woman beside him, then faced the camera. “In this life, I will only marry the woman standing beside me.” Flashbulbs exploded across the screen. I crouched in front of the TV cabinet. My knees hit the tile, but I felt no pain. That night, when he opened the bedroom door, I held kitchen scissors in my hand. The tip pressed against my carotid artery. “Let me go.” He stood at the door, eyes falling on the scissors. There was no fear. He approached with slow steps, bit by bit. “Let you go?” He stopped in front of the bed and tilted his head. “So you can go tell everyone?” He reached out and grasped the blade with his bare hand. Metal sank into flesh. Blood slid down the blade and fell onto the sheets. His expression did not change. “Summer, alive, you are mine.” He pulled the scissors from my hand inch by inch. “Dead, you can only die in this house.” He threw the scissors into the hallway. The sound of metal striking the floor echoed through the empty villa for a long time. Three days later, Nathan brought someone back. The man carried a black briefcase. Beneath his white coat, he wore an ordinary gray sweater. Nathan had the housekeeper help me sit up. Soft restraints were already tied around my wrists. He stood at the foot of the bed and looked down at me. “Summer, you’re in too much pain now.” He reached out and brushed aside the hair on my forehead. “I found the best doctor for you.” I shook my head desperately. Tears slid from the corners of my eyes into my ears. “I won’t fight anymore. I’ll listen to whatever you say. Please don’t do this.” Nathan’s hand stopped on my forehead. He closed his eyes. For that one second, I thought he would stop. I thought he was still the man who once canceled million-dollar negotiations for me. Then he opened his eyes, turned around, and said something to the man in English. “Erase the memories that hurt her. Rewrite love into obedience.” The man opened his briefcase and took out a syringe and a palm-sized machine. Nathan walked toward the door. I could no longer scream complete words. Only broken sounds left my throat. The door closed. As the last strip of light was cut off, the needle pierced the vein on the back of my hand. After the drug took effect, my consciousness sank like drowning. My body stopped struggling. But I was still awake. The man thought the sedative had pushed me into deep hypnosis. He began guiding me with a pendulum and words, invading my subconscious sentence by sentence. “Forget betrayal.” “Forget waiting through that thunderstorm.” “He is safe. Obey him, and you won’t hurt anymore.” Every instruction reached my mind like ten thousand needles piercing my skull. The brainwave interference device was attached to both sides of my temples. Whenever my subconscious tried to seize a memory, electric current poured in from behind my ears and burned along my nerves. I tried to hold on to the sound of the pocket watch’s second hand. To the image of Nathan crouching in front of the closet and catching me. To the words “crushed to dust.” Every time I tried, the electric shock came. It was as if someone were using a branding iron to burn away the words inside my brain, one stroke at a time. I felt my fingers move. Under the restraint, my right middle finger kept curling inward. Hidden beneath my nail was a thin piece of metal. Before I was tied to the bed, I had bitten off a clasp from the pocket watch chain, held it between my gum and cheek, and moved it into my hand. I began to scrape. While the doctor adjusted the instrument settings, I used that metal piece to scratch the back cover of the pocket watch again and again. Nathan loves Summer. I cut over those three words repeatedly. My finger tore open. Blood mixed with metal dust. My fingertip lost all feeling. But physical pain became an anchor. It pinned me to the edge of clarity and kept that machine from pushing me all the way down. The procedure lasted four hours. When it ended, I could see nothing clearly. All I heard was the hum of the machine shutting off. The door opened. Nathan walked to the bed and bent over to look at me. I knew I had to act. I emptied my gaze, stopped my eyes from focusing, and relaxed every facial muscle. His hand covered the top of my head. “Summer, you’re so good now.” There was satisfaction in his voice. His fingertips brushed over my cheekbone, as if admiring a newly acquired collectible. A deep chill crawled up my spine. But I endured it. The brainwave intervention severed part of my short-term memory. For nearly half a year, my recollections were fractured and displaced. But the core remained. My nerves had been burned raw. Pain itself became the container of memory. With my damaged consciousness, I escaped that villa through the kitchen exhaust duct at dawn on the twenty-first day while the night housekeeper dozed off. That was seven years ago. I closed the back cover of the pocket watch. The metal clasp gave a soft click. The door to the consultation room was suddenly shoved open. Nathan had come back. He was soaked through, hair plastered to his forehead. He knelt in front of my desk, knees hitting the tiles with a dull thud. “I was a bastard back then.” He held his head, his vocal cords shaking badly. “I thought if your memories were erased, you wouldn’t suffer anymore. I thought it was for your own good.” I looked at him. This man who had once said at a press conference that he would marry only one woman now looked like a rotten, rain-soaked rag. I smiled. Very lightly. Without sound. He froze and lifted his face. I leaned down, meeting his gaze at eye level. “Mr. Vale, actually, that doctor of yours wasn’t very skilled.” His lips moved. “Try imagining what it felt like to feel your brain nerves being burned one by one by electric current, while having to pretend to stare blankly as you touched my head and said I was good.” I paused, my voice steady. “In business terms, I believe you’d call that worse than death.” Nathan’s pupils expanded to the limit in an instant. He opened his mouth but made no sound. Only broken gasps squeezed from his chest. His nails dug into the seams between the floor tiles, shaking terribly. I straightened, picked up the pocket watch from the desk, and gently swung it in midair. The second hand no longer moved. “Since you like hypnosis so much.” I released my fingers and let the watch hang. “Then I’ll let you taste what it means to never wake up.”

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My brother was in a brutal crash and rushed to the ICU. Desperate to save my bonus for his surgery, I sprinted to Director Carter’s office to approve my emergency leave. She deliberately stalled. “No ER certificate attached. Denied.” I texted Dad. He sent a photo of the admission slip, but she sneered. “Video call me. I want to see him holding the family registry and certificate.” Dad stood trembling outside the ICU, awkwardly holding the papers to the lens while I begged her to look. She glanced for two seconds and rejected it. “Policy deducts three months’ bonus. The ER isn’t a crematorium. Finish your reports.” Staring at the rejection, I laughed dryly. Without screaming, I pressed voice memo and spoke clearly: “Dad, stop waiting. Police confirmed Carter’s son stole the car for a joyride and totaled it. He had no ID, his face was shredded, so they misidentified him as my brother. Tell Director Carter to sign the critical condition waiver herself.” 1 The second I sent the voice message, Director Carter let out a sharp, mocking laugh. She picked up the ceramic coffee mug on her desk and hurled it directly at my head. “Chloe, have you completely lost your mind?!” “You’re using cheap, disgusting curses against my son just to fake a day off?!” I dodged the flying mug. It shattered against the wall, hot coffee splattering everywhere. “Director Carter, I am not lying to you.” “The traffic police already confirmed the identity. The driver in the crash is your son, Jackson.” “Call them and verify it yourself.” Director Carter slammed both hands onto her desk and shot up from her leather chair. “Shut your mouth!” “My son drove his brand new Porsche to a resort resort this morning!” “Why the hell would he ever touch your pathetic, cheap sedan?” “Do you honestly think someone as poor and miserable as you is worthy of having her car stolen by my son?” I pulled up the text message from the police dispatcher, intending to show her the official notice. She lunged forward, violently snatching the phone out of my hand. She threw it onto the marble floor with everything she had. The screen instantly shattered into a spiderweb of glass. “Chloe, you are a pathological liar, and you viciously curse the families of your superiors.” “I am officially notifying you. You are fired.” “Your salary for this month, along with your entire performance bonus, is being withheld to compensate for the company’s reputational damage.” “Pack your trash and get out of my building. Now!” I slowly crouched down and picked up my ruined phone. “You don’t have the legal authority to fire me without cause.” “Withholding my earned wages is a federal crime.” Director Carter stepped around her desk and viciously kicked my hand with the pointed toe of her designer heel. “In this department, my word is the law!” “Your brother is dying in the ICU, isn’t he?” “I am going to make sure you don’t get a single dime.” “I want you to watch him take his last breath!” The coworkers gathered outside the glass walls didn’t dare make a sound. Director Carter picked up her desk phone and dialed Human Resources. “Chloe has severely violated company conduct. Draft her termination papers immediately.” “Notify Payroll. Freeze all of her reimbursements and direct deposits.” She slammed the phone down and pointed a perfectly manicured finger at the door. “Security!” Two heavy set security guards rushed into the office. “Throw this garbage out.” “She is not allowed to take a single piece of company property with her.” The guards stepped forward, grabbing me roughly by both arms. I struggled against their grip, shouting as loud as I could. “Director Carter, the boy lying in the ICU is Jackson!” “He didn’t have his wallet, and his face was completely ripped apart by the windshield!” “If you don’t go down there and pay the deposit for his surgery, he is going to die!” She marched right up to me and raised her hand high. Smack. She slapped me directly across the face. “Still running your mouth!” “Throw her out!” The guards dragged me out of the executive suite. They hauled me through the lobby and out the front doors of the corporate tower. They shoved me hard, sending me tumbling down the concrete steps. My shattered phone screen suddenly lit up. It was my dad calling. “Chloe, the doctors said his pupils are dilating!” “They need a family member to sign the consent form for the experimental drugs immediately!” “The deposit is ten thousand dollars!” I gritted my teeth and pulled myself up from the concrete. “Dad, the patient is not my brother!” “Leave him alone. Let his own family deal with the consequences!” My dad’s voice was panicked. “But the hospital registered him under your brother’s name!” “If we don’t pay, they are legally required to stop treatment.” “And the police said you are the registered owner of the vehicle. Procedure requires the family to be present.” I let out a cold, hollow laugh. “Then let them stop treatment.” “The person dying on that table is Director Carter’s son.” “I’ll catch a cab to the hospital right now.” I flagged down a yellow taxi. From the top of the stairs, Director Carter’s shrill voice rang out. “Chloe, you think running to the hospital is going to save you?” She clicked down the steps in her stilettos, looking at me like I was an insect. “Let me make this perfectly clear. You crossed me. I will have you blacklisted across this entire industry.” “Not only am I freezing your paychecks, I am going to make sure your brother rots in that hospital bed, and you won’t even have the cash to cremate him!” I rolled down the taxi window. “Director Carter, you should really call the resort and see what car your son is actually driving today.” 2 The taxi pulled away from the curb. I glanced back and saw Director Carter turning around, her face twisted in absolute disgust as she walked back into the corporate tower. When I rushed into the hospital’s emergency lobby, my dad was pacing frantically, clutching a stack of urgent medical bills. “Chloe, the administration says if we don’t pay the deposit right now, they have to pull the plug.” I snatched the bills out of his trembling hands and ripped them in half. I tossed the pieces into the nearest trash can. “Pull it.” “Tell them to pull it right now.” My dad completely froze. “Chloe… that’s a human life!” “I know it’s not our boy, but…” I cut him off immediately. “Dad. The person bleeding out in that room is my boss’s son. Director Carter.” “He stole my brother’s car, took it joyriding, and completely totaled it.” “His mother just froze my paychecks, fired me illegally, and promised to blacklist me so I can never work again.” “She literally told me she wanted to watch my brother die.” “Why in God’s name would I save her son?” The ER attending physician hurried out of the double doors, holding a critical condition waiver on a clipboard. “Family of the patient? Are you here?” I stepped forward. “Doctor, the patient in that room is not my brother.” “His name is Jackson.” The doctor’s eyebrows slammed together in frustration. “We verified the vehicle registration found inside the wreckage. The vehicle belongs to your family.” “The patient is suffering from a massive intracranial hemorrhage.” “He needs an emergency craniotomy immediately. If we delay by another ten minutes, he is dead.” “Who is signing the consent? Who is paying the deposit?” I pulled my driver’s license out of my wallet and held it up. “My name is Chloe. I am the registered owner of the car.” “But the person inside that room is not related to me. I absolutely refuse to sign any medical waivers.” “And I am not paying a single cent.” The doctor’s face darkened. “If you refuse to sign, we cannot legally perform the brain surgery.” “The patient will reach brain death very quickly.” “How can your family be this cold-blooded?” I stared at the doctor with a completely deadpan expression. “It’s not cold-blooded. You simply have the wrong family.” “I called his biological mother. She explicitly refused to come to the hospital.” “She believes we are running a scam on her.” Suddenly, a loud commotion erupted at the far end of the hallway. Several men in sharp black suits violently shoved through the crowd of patients. Director Carter’s husband, Richard, a wealthy local executive, marched straight up to me. Behind him was the head corporate lawyer from my company. Richard pointed a thick, heavy finger directly at my face. “Are you Chloe?” I met his furious glare without blinking. “Yes.” Richard didn’t hesitate. He swung his hand, aiming a brutal slap right at my head. I ducked to the side, and his hand hit nothing but air. He let out a furious roar. “Your worthless, trash brother!” “He drove his pathetic junk car and hit my son, didn’t he?!” I looked at him with absolute ice in my veins. “Richard, you have your facts entirely backwards.” “Your son, Jackson, broke into my brother’s car and stole it.” Richard let out a booming, arrogant laugh. “Bullshit!” “My son drives a Porsche! Why would he ever stoop so low as to steal a garbage used car?” The corporate lawyer stepped forward, adjusting his tie. “Chloe, Director Carter has authorized me to handle this matter entirely.” “We pulled the security footage from the club district. Your brother parked his car outside a nightclub.” “Later, the vehicle was found crashed into a highway barrier.” “Jackson was drinking at that exact nightclub tonight, and now his phone is completely unreachable!” “It is obvious your brother hit my client’s son and hid the body to cover up the crime!” I pulled out my phone and started dialing 911. “Since you claim you have footage, let’s have the traffic detectives settle this.” Richard lunged forward and violently snatched the phone out of my hand. He hurled it against the hospital wall. The device shattered into a dozen pieces. “Call the cops? You think the police are going to protect a nobody like you?” “Let me make this clear. My family has enough power in this city to crush you like a cockroach.” “If you don’t tell me where you hid my son right now, I will bury your entire family!” My dad stepped in front of me, throwing his arms out to shield me. “You people are completely insane!” “The police clearly stated there was only one injured driver pulled from the wreckage!” Richard raised his heavy leather shoe and viciously kicked my dad directly in the stomach. My dad let out a sharp gasp of pain and collapsed onto the linoleum floor. “Dad!” I instantly dropped to my knees, holding him tight. Richard pointed a menacing finger at the heavy doors of the ICU. “The kid lying in there is your brother, right?” “He hits my son, and now he thinks he can hide in the hospital and play the victim?” 3 Richard violently whipped his head toward the attending physician. “Doctor, my name is Richard Carter. CEO of Carter Enterprises.” “That kid inside, the one who caused the crash? Cease all medical intervention immediately.” The doctor froze, utterly bewildered. “Mr. Carter, this is a hospital, you can’t just…” Richard cut him off with a chilling sneer. “I don’t care what this is. Your Chief of Medicine is my weekly golf partner.” “That kid committed a hit and run. He is suspected of the attempted murder of my son.” “Anyone who tries to save his miserable life is making a direct enemy of the Carter family!” The doctor looked incredibly conflicted. “But sir, the patient requires emergency brain surgery to survive.” Richard waved his hand dismissively. “I don’t give a damn!” “Stop his medication and pull the ventilator right now!” “Let him die in there and pay for what he did to my boy!” I helped my dad up from the floor, easing him into a waiting room chair. I just watched Richard scream his psychotic demands. “Richard, are you absolutely certain you want the life support pulled?” Richard took a threatening step toward me. “What’s the matter? Starting to feel sorry for your trash brother?” “My son is missing and could be dead for all I know. Why should your brother get top tier medical care?” “I’m not just pulling the plug. I’m making sure your whole family rots in a federal prison!” The corporate lawyer chimed in, adjusting his glasses. “Chloe, Mr. Carter has already applied immense pressure on the police department.” “Your brother is facing charges for felony vehicular manslaughter.” “Your only way out of this is to sign a ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ order on his behalf right now.” I smiled. I actually started laughing out loud. “You want me to sign a DNR for the patient in that room?” Richard snarled, “Exactly!” “If you don’t sign it, I’ll put your old man in the ICU right next to him.” “And that’s just the start. You will never find employment in this state ever again.” “The bank will foreclose on your family home before the week is out.” I stood up straight, brushing the dust off my knees. I looked Richard dead in the eyes. “Fine.” “I’ll sign it.” The corporate lawyer immediately unzipped his leather briefcase and pulled out a standard medical waiver to cease treatment. Richard snatched it from his hands and slammed it onto the reception desk in front of me. “Smart girl.” “Sign your name, and get the hell out of my city.” I didn’t reach for the pen. “I can’t sign this document.” Richard’s face contorted in absolute rage. “Are you playing games with me?” “Do you want me to walk in there and rip his oxygen tube out with my own bare hands?!” I kept my voice perfectly, terrifyingly calm. “Because I am not his legal guardian or family member.” “The doctor just told you, only direct family can authorize a DNR.” “If you really want the patient dead, why don’t you sign the waiver yourself, Richard?” Richard was momentarily caught off guard, but then he let out a dark, arrogant laugh. “You think I won’t?” “I am the family of the victim! I am formally demanding the cessation of medical care for a violent criminal. It is entirely within my legal rights!” He turned and glared at the doctor. “Give me your hospital’s official DNR form!” “I will sign it right now!” The doctor was sweating profusely. “Mr. Carter, this completely violates medical protocol…” “The paperwork must be signed by the patient’s parents or legal spouse.” Richard shoved his finger inches from the doctor’s face. “Cut the bureaucratic garbage!” “I said I’m signing it, so I’m signing it!” “If anyone comes asking questions, I take full legal and financial responsibility!” Right as the words left his mouth, the sharp, rhythmic clicking of high heels echoed down the sterile hallway. Director Carter strode toward us, flanked by two more security guards. “Honey, why are you wasting your breath arguing with these peasants?” “I just got off the phone with the Chief of Medicine.” “All medical funds for that criminal have been completely frozen.” She stopped directly in front of me, her eyes dripping with malice. “Chloe, earlier today in my office, you fabricated a disgusting lie about my son dying.” “Now your own brother is bleeding out behind those doors. Karma is a beautiful thing, isn’t it?” I looked at her, completely unfazed. “Director Carter, have you actually managed to contact your son yet?” Her face twitched violently, but she quickly raised her voice to cover her panic. “That is none of your damn business!” “Jackson is at a luxury resort. He just forgot to charge his phone.” “Bottom feeders like you belong rotting in the gutter where you started.” Suddenly, the heavy doors of the ICU burst open. An emergency room nurse sprinted out, her face pale with terror. “The patient’s blood pressure just crashed to critical levels!” “If we don’t begin a massive blood transfusion and initiate the surgery right this second, his heart will stop in less than five minutes!” The nurse looked frantically at our group. “Who is the family?!” “Sign the consent form and pay the deposit right now!” 4 Director Carter let out a sharp, mocking laugh. “There is no family here!” The nurse was practically hyperventilating. “What do you mean there’s no family?” Director Carter pointed a manicured finger right at my chest. “She refuses to sign it. And even if she wanted to, she doesn’t have a dime to her name.” “Her brother is a rapist and a murderer.” “Why the hell is your hospital wasting resources trying to save a piece of human garbage?” The nurse stared at her in utter disbelief. “But ma’am…” Director Carter took a step forward, aggressively snatching the patient’s medical chart right out of the nurse’s hands. She slammed it forcefully onto the linoleum floor. “There are no ‘buts’!” “I am an executive board member of Carter Enterprises.” “I am ordering you to cease all resuscitation efforts immediately.” “Let him die!” I crossed my arms over my chest and tilted my head. “Director Carter, if the patient in that room dies, aren’t you worried about the legal repercussions of your actions?” Director Carter threw her head back and laughed. “The law?” “I am the law!” She pointed her finger directly at my nose, her voice dripping with venom. “Chloe, do you think you can play mind games with me?” “You think a cheap reverse psychology trick is going to work?” “I don’t care if God himself comes down from the heavens. The worthless bastard in that room dies today!” Richard grabbed a pen off the nurse’s station counter. He flipped the critical condition waiver over and scribbled violently on the back of the page. “I, Richard Carter, formally demand that this hospital immediately cease all medical intervention for the perpetrator, John Doe.” “I assume all legal and financial consequences for this action!” He violently slashed his signature across the bottom of the page. He even pressed his thumb onto an ink pad on the desk and stamped his fingerprint next to his name. Director Carter glanced at the paper and snatched the pen from his hand. “Honey, let me add my name.” “I want this little bitch to fully comprehend what happens when she crosses us.” She signed her name in bold, looping letters right below his. The two of them shoved the paper aggressively against the terrified nurse’s chest. “Read it carefully!” “Those are our signatures.” “Turn off the ventilator right now!” “Stop the blood transfusions!” The nurse was physically trembling. She looked desperately at the attending physician for help. The doctor took the paper, his face grim. “Mr. and Mrs. Carter.” “Since you are making an explicit, documented demand, and you have pressured the hospital administration to back you…” “We have no choice but to halt the surgery and withdraw the experimental medications.” Director Carter shot me a look of pure, triumphant malice. “Do you see this, Chloe?” “This is what real power looks like.” “Your brother is about to become a corpse.” “You better go buy a cheap tarp to wrap him in. It’s all you’ll be able to afford.” I stared back at her without a trace of emotion. “Director Carter. Richard.” “Are you absolutely certain you don’t want to step inside and look at the patient?” “Even just one quick glance?” Director Carter’s face twisted in pure revulsion. “Look at a dead body? I’d rather not infect my eyes with such filth.” “Do you really think I want to see you crying over a corpse?” Richard scoffed loudly. “Stop wasting your breath on her.” “Put two guards on the door. Make sure the medical staff actually pulls the plug.” With a flick of his wrist, two massive bodyguards stepped in front of the ICU doors, crossing their arms. “Nobody goes in!” The doctor and the nurse exchanged a helpless look before pushing through the doors into the emergency suite. The heavy doors clicked shut. The hallway fell into a dead, suffocating silence. My dad tightly gripped my sleeve, his knuckles white. “Chloe… someone is really going to die in there…” I gently patted his hand. “It’s okay, Dad.” “The person dying is someone who spent his whole life hurting others.” “Karma finally caught up with him.” Ten excruciating minutes passed. The ICU doors slowly pushed open. The doctor walked out. He slowly shook his head. “Because we withdrew the experimental medications and disconnected the ventilator…” “The patient slipped into a deep coma.” “Brain stem reflexes have entirely vanished. Spontaneous respiration has ceased.” “Clinically speaking, the patient is brain dead.” Director Carter clapped her hands together in sheer delight. “Fantastic!” “Good riddance!” Richard let out a booming, victorious laugh. “This is exactly what happens when you mess with the Carter family!” The corporate lawyer stepped forward, pulling a document from his briefcase. “Now that the perpetrator is officially deceased…” “We will immediately file a civil lawsuit against Chloe, demanding massive financial compensation for the emotional distress caused to my clients.” Director Carter strutted right up into my personal space. “Chloe, your brother is dead.” “Are you satisfied now?” “Tomorrow morning, your industry-wide blacklist goes into effect.” “You better prepare to spend the rest of your life begging for scraps on the street.” I quietly watched the absolute ecstasy radiating from her face. Then, I turned my head to look at the doctor. “Doctor, since the patient has officially been declared brain dead…” “Have you cleaned him up so the family can identify the body?”

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When my family forced me into an arranged marriage, I bypassed all the arrogant billionaire heirs and chose the only doctor in the bunch. Only after we got married did the truth slowly dawn on me. He was exactly like that tragic doctor friend from those cheesy romance novels, the one who constantly gets dragged out of bed in the middle of the night to treat the main character’s runaway lover. After witnessing this ridiculous scenario play out a few times in real life, I completely abandoned any romantic notions of building a real relationship with him. Seriously, who wants to spend their marriage competing with a bunch of dramatic, codependent billionaire man-children for their own husband’s attention? But what I never, in my wildest dreams, expected, was that he could suddenly read my mind. … 1 For people born into our circle, an arranged marriage is a card we always knew we would have to play. It was a fair trade. We enjoyed a life of obscene luxury, so it was only natural we had to pay the toll when the time came. In that regard, I considered myself incredibly lucky. I actually got to choose my own groom, provided he came from the designated pool of trust-fund heirs. Truthfully, I didn’t care all that much who it was. Everyone in our world understood that a dynastic marriage was nothing more than a polished performance, a gilded handshake to seal a merger between two corporate empires. But since the choice was mine, I wanted someone normal. I did my research. One candidate was hopelessly entangled with his ex who had moved to Paris, a classic case of chasing a ghost. Absolutely not. Another was currently playing a toxic game of hide-and-seek with a runway model he kept in a penthouse downtown. Pass. A third had just bought a yacht for an actress twice his age. No, thank you. After crossing off the disasters, I thought of Andrew. The few times I had seen him at charity galas, he had always seemed the picture of quiet elegance. His name sounded like the perfect fit for a brooding billionaire CEO, yet he was the only man in his circle of heirs who didn’t run a company. Andrew was a doctor. A genuine, terrifyingly brilliant academic who had pushed himself through an elite MD-PhD program at the country’s top medical school. He fit the part perfectly. He spoke with a gentle, measured cadence, and he always looked impeccably clean and put together. Whenever I saw him, he was clad in crisp, pale suits, giving him a sort of serene, saintly aura, likely amplified by my own bias toward his profession. Our match came together with ridiculous ease. The moment our parents sat down to discuss it, they practically shook hands on the spot. When they asked Andrew, he reportedly agreed without a single second of hesitation. Within a month, I went from a girl who had never even held hands with a boy to a married woman. On our wedding day, I moved into the townhouse he had bought for us. The warm beige decor and minimalist aesthetic suited his calm demeanor perfectly. After showing me around the place, Andrew led me to the door of the master bedroom. His voice was soft and warm. “Even though this is an alliance, I don’t want our marriage to be a hollow contract. I want us to take our time, get to know each other, and build something real.” He pointed toward the guest bedroom across the hall. “I’ll sleep in there. Don’t feel pressured. I won’t touch you until we both feel ready.” I closed the door to my new room and let out a breath. To be honest, he was far better than I had anticipated. Even though I had never heard a whisper of scandal about him, his closest friends were all notoriously high-maintenance playboys with a penchant for keeping dramatic side-pieces. Birds of a feather usually flock together. But Andrew seemed entirely different from them. Even so, I guarded my heart. I only hoped we could maintain a polite, respectful distance. As long as he didn’t bring his messes to my doorstep, I had no intention of policing his private life. Two months flew by in a blur of domestic peace. One evening, after a long shower, I lay on my bed and stared at the ridiculously sheer lace nightgown draped over the vanity chair. My heart began to hammer against my ribs. Andrew was a perfect gentleman, completely content to keep his hands to himself. But I wasn’t a saint. I was twenty-four, and my romantic experience was practically nonexistent, but my mind was firmly in the gutter. I had a gorgeous, tempting husband living right across the hall. Why on earth was I voluntarily living like a nun? Besides, during these past two months, we had fallen into a beautiful rhythm. He was home by six every evening. We shared cozy, quiet dinners. We spent weekends wandering through museums, and he would sit patiently in the salon while I got my nails done, or curl up on the sofa with me to watch terrible soap operas. I had to admit, I was falling for him. 2 One afternoon, while out shopping with my friends, I glanced at my phone and realized it was already half past five. A sudden, instinctual thought flashed through my mind: I need to go home. The thought made me pause, a strange, complex wave of emotion washing over me. I realized I was no longer calling the townhouse a house. In my mind, it had become home. I had developed a deep, unexpected sense of belonging to that space, and to Andrew. I had grown up watching the chaotic, miserable marriages in our social circle. My own parents were a masterclass in dysfunction, with my father parading a revolving door of mistresses and my mother pretending not to notice. I thought I was entirely immune to the concept of love and family. But the quiet, steady pull of daily life with Andrew had worn down my defenses. Thinking about the kind of man he had shown himself to be over the past few weeks, a tiny spark of courage flared in my chest. I wanted to take a gamble. Maybe, just maybe, trusting someone wouldn’t end in disaster. Andrew’s parents were one of the rare couples in high society who genuinely loved each other. A son raised by them had to have some decent bones in his body. And if it turned out to be a trap, well, perhaps everyone had to touch the fire once to learn it was hot. I slipped into the black lace nightgown, walked quietly over to Andrew’s bedroom door, and leaned against the frame in a pose I had seen in a magazine. I tapped gently on the wood. The door opened, and Andrew froze. His eyes darted frantically left and right, searching for a jacket or a blanket to wrap around me, but there was nothing within reach. As the seconds stretched, his gaze darkened, burning with a sudden, intense heat. His voice dropped to a low, husky register. “Evie, are you sure?” When I nodded, he didn’t hesitate. He swept me into his arms. The room was dark save for the warm, amber glow of the bedside lamp. My temperature spiked, my thoughts scattering into a hazy fog. As I lay back, my eyes caught the stark white of his bedsheets, and a highly inappropriate, mundane thought popped into my head: Those sheets are so white, they must be a nightmare to bleach. I never got to test that theory. Just as Andrew untied his tie, his phone began to wail on the nightstand. He drew in a sharp, ragged breath, his chest rising and falling against mine. He braced one hand beside my ear, leaning over me to grab the device. “Andrew, Gavin drank way too much tonight. He’s doubled over in agony. Can you please come take a look at him?” The voice on the line was frantic. It belonged to an assistant I vaguely recognized from one of Andrew’s trust-fund friends. Andrew went still. When he spoke, his voice was rough and thick with friction. “I understand. I’ll be there soon.” The fog in my brain vanished instantly. I grabbed the lapels of his half-undone shirt, a sudden, sharp ache blooming in my chest. “Don’t go,” I whispered. Andrew looked down at me, his eyes softening as he leaned in to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. “Be good, sweetheart. I need to go check on him.” Watching him pull away to put his clothes back on, a wave of hot anger rushed through me. I stared at his back, screaming silently in my head: Oh, “be good, I’ll go check.” Sure. Who knows if you’re checking on your buddy or your secret soulmate. Andrew paused mid-motion, his shoulders tensing. He slowly turned around, giving me a profoundly complicated look. “What?” I asked aloud, keeping my face blank. He shook his head, looking slightly dazed, and went back to buttoning his shirt. I continued my silent tirade: Go ahead, run along. Nobody can stop the great Saint Andrew. Who needs 911? Who needs a hospital? You must have magic hands, since apparently a grown man’s stomachache can only be cured by you. Having vented my frustration internally, I felt a bit better. But as Andrew walked toward the door, he stumbled slightly over his own feet. I must have imagined it. He was famous in our circle for being completely unshakeable, a man who never lost his cool. “Evie,” he said softly, pausing at the door. “I’ll be back before you know it.” I fell asleep long before he returned. When I woke up the next morning, he was sleeping soundly beside me, back in his usual pajamas. The sight of him only made my annoyance flare up again. What kind of man gets dressed and runs out of the house in the middle of that? I had literally felt the heat radiating off his skin when he reached for his phone. He had wanted me. And yet, he had still walked out. I chewed viciously on a piece of toast at the kitchen island. Andrew padded into the kitchen a few minutes later. Seeing my dark expression, a soft, helpless laugh escaped him. He stepped up behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pressing his lips to the shell of my ear. “I’m so sorry, Evie. Gavin has been dealing with some massive crises lately. He drank himself into a bleeding ulcer last night, and I was genuinely worried about him.” What was done was done. I didn’t want to drag out the argument. But later that afternoon, while I was lounging on the sofa, a cheesy romance drama started playing on the television. The plot was a classic: the toxic billionaire lead was chasing the female lead, she got hurt, and the male lead immediately summoned his doctor friend in the middle of the night to treat her. A lightbulb suddenly went off in my brain. All the romance novels I had ever read came rushing back to me in a wave of sudden clarity. My god. Andrew wasn’t the main character. He was the exhausted, midnight-summoned doctor friend who existed solely as a plot device for his chaotic billionaire buddies. Billionaire CEOs? We had plenty of those in our circle. Drinking themselves to the point of hospitalization? Check. A doctor friend on speed dial? Check. Summoned in the middle of the night? Double check. I pictured Andrew being dragged from pillar to post by a bunch of dramatic, emotionally stunted men, running around like a tired golden retriever trying to put out their self-inflicted fires. I couldn’t help but chuckle. That evening, I didn’t make a move, but Andrew knocked on my bedroom door anyway. His hair was perfectly styled, and the faint, woody scent of his cologne drifted into the room. He leaned against the doorframe, a brilliant, hopeful smile playing on his lips. “Any chance you have room for me tonight?” 3 I arched an eyebrow. “What’s the matter? No urgent medical crises to attend to tonight?” He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he cupped my face in his warm palms, tilted my head up, and kissed me. His lips were soft, parting mine with a slow, deliberate hunger. With the ice broken from the night before, everything fell into place naturally. But just as he pulled his shirt over his head, we both froze. We stared at each other, then slowly turned our heads to look at his phone resting on the nightstand, terrified it would start buzzing again. The sheer absurdity of the moment broke the tension, and we both burst into quiet laughter. He leaned down, his voice thick with amusement. “I’m not going anywhere tonight, I promise.” My cheeks burned. He made it sound like I was the one who couldn’t wait. That night taught me a valuable lesson: appearances can be highly deceiving. Andrew was a good man. In every sense of the word. Professionally, he was entirely dedicated to finding a cure for a rare, terminal illness. He had a heart of gold, treated his family with utmost respect, and remained fiercely loyal to his friends. To me, he was always gentle and attentive. But being too good of a person came with its own set of complications. It wasn’t long before our plans began to suffer. We would set aside an evening to celebrate a milestone, or plan a quiet weekend getaway, only for his phone to interrupt us. It didn’t happen every day, but when it did, it was always at the worst possible moment. The assistants calling his phone sounded more panicked and pathetic with every call. One night, it was a billionaire friend who had drunk himself into another stupor. Another night, it was someone else who had gotten into a toxic, screaming match with a lover and allegedly collapsed from exhaustion. When people claimed someone was on the brink of death, how could I hold him back? Even though I found the drama ridiculous—since calling a private ambulance was hardly a monumental task—they always insisted it had to be Andrew. Andrew always tried his best to resolve the issue quickly and rush back to me, but the damage was always done. The romantic mood would be thoroughly ruined, leaving a cold, lingering disappointment in its wake. Today was our first wedding anniversary. The night before, I had sat Andrew down and told him explicitly that I did not want a single interruption. He had been working late at the research lab for weeks, and we had barely spent any quality time together. This anniversary was supposed to be our sanctuary. We spent the afternoon wandering through a quiet gourmet grocery store. It felt like a luxury just to walk side by side. For my last birthday, Andrew had surprised me by cooking a full three-course dinner. The food had been spectacular, perfectly tailored to my tastes. Back when we first realized we had feelings for each other, we had gone all out for every holiday. But for our first anniversary, we wanted nothing more than to cook a simple meal together in our kitchen. I leaned against the dining table, watching Andrew move around the stove, a sudden wave of warmth washing over me. A year ago, I never could have imagined my married life would look like this. It wasn’t wild or theatrical, but it was incredibly warm. I walked over and wrapped my arms around his waist from behind. He let out a soft laugh and began to turn around to face me. Then, the phone rang. My stomach dropped. Over the past year, I had developed a physical, pavlovian dread of that ringtone. I pressed my forehead against his back, listening to him answer. On the other end, an assistant’s voice crackled with familiar, practiced panic. “Dr. Vance, please, you need to come right away…” Anger, sharp and hot, flared in my chest. I reached around him, snatched the phone straight out of his hand, and spoke directly into the receiver. “Is your finger broken, or are you physically unable to dial 911? If he is dying, take him to a hospital.” The line went dead silent. I ended the call and tossed the phone onto the counter. I was shaking. “That was Chase Montgomery’s assistant, wasn’t it? I know his voice by now. You seriously believe a playboy like Chase is drinking himself to death over some girl?” Andrew looked torn, his brow furrowing. “I heard he actually fell hard for someone this time…” “He falls hard every single Tuesday!” I snapped, my voice trembling. “If you walk out that door tonight, don’t talk to me about us anymore. Since your precious bros are so important to you, go spend the rest of your life with them.” And yet, he still walked out.

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1 The midday sun beat down relentlessly on the main gates of Westbrook University. Tristan, the reigning bad boy of the campus, had his fists twisted tightly into the collar of my shirt. His eyes were bloodshot as he screamed at the reigning campus queen, Serena. “Keep running your mouth and see if I don’t punch her lights out! If she calls the cops, the fine is five hundred bucks tops. That’s enough for you to buy a whole mountain of snacks!” Serena’s hands visibly trembled as she unzipped her designer handbag. She pulled out five crisp hundred dollar bills and shoved them directly into my hand. “Let him hit you. Keep the cash. I want to see if he actually has the guts to do it.” When that five hundred dollars hit my palm, I was still dangling in the air like a captured kitten. My name is Harper. I am a sophomore, tragically single since birth, and my bank account rarely sees a balance over fifty dollars. The physical texture of those five hundred dollar bills was infinitely more thrilling than an underwear model’s abs. Serena stared at the money in my hand and swallowed hard. “Not enough? Fine, I will add two hundred. But that is my absolute limit. I need the rest of my allowance for junk food.” Tristan’s face instantly turned the color of spoiled spinach. He was the untouchable campus tyrant. The guy who drove a cherry red Ferrari to his morning lectures. “Are you an actual psychopath, Serena? I am trying to threaten you!” The veins on the back of Tristan’s hands popped. In a fit of absolute rage, he violently shook me back and forth. My vision blurred into a dizzying mess. No. I had to earn this money. I wrapped both of my arms around Tristan’s forearm and screamed at the top of my lungs. “Hit me! Right here in the face! If you don’t swing, you’re a absolute coward!” That completely spooked him. Tristan ripped his hands away from my shirt and stumbled three steps backward. I took the opportunity to throw myself onto the scorching concrete. I clutched my chest and started violently twitching. “Oh my god! My ribs are completely shattered! I cannot physically stand up unless I am compensated with ten thousand dollars!” A massive crowd of students immediately formed a tight circle around us. Whispers and pointed fingers rained down on Tristan. “That is so messed up. A grown guy beating up a girl.” “Seriously. Look at her. She is literally foaming at the mouth.” Hearing that, I quickly swallowed my chewing gum and rolled my eyes back into my skull for dramatic effect. Tristan couldn’t defend himself. His face flushed a brilliant, panicked red. “I barely touched her! She threw herself on the ground!” Serena crouched down next to me and poked my shoulder. “Ten thousand is way out of my budget. I can’t afford that. How about you just let him actually beat you up, and I will bump my offer to eight hundred?” How was the campus beauty queen’s brain even more twisted than mine? Right at that moment, someone aggressively shoved their way through the crowd. A pair of limited edition Jordans stopped inches from my head. It was Jaxon, the star athlete of the sports management program, completely infamous for his explosive temper. “You really think you’re tough, Tristan? Picking on someone half your size makes you a man?” Jaxon pointed an accusing finger at Tristan, radiating absolute righteous justice. But in his sheer excitement, his foot slipped. That massive size twelve Jordan slammed squarely onto the back of my right hand. A bloodcurdling scream ripped out of my throat. Jaxon jumped out of his skin and scrambled backward. He stared in pure horror at my hand, which was rapidly swelling into the shape of a red balloon. He whipped his head around and glared at Tristan. “You are a monster! You completely broke her bones!” Tristan let out a hysterical, manic laugh and pointed right back at Jaxon. “Are you legally blind? You are the one who just stomped on her!” One word led to another, and the two of them instantly tackled each other to the ground. Ferrari keys and limited edition sneakers flew through the air in a chaotic blur. Taking advantage of the total anarchy, Serena subtly pinched the five hundred dollars right out of my hand. “Since you didn’t technically take a hit from him, I am reclaiming my investment.” Ignoring the throbbing pain in my hand, I lunged forward and wrapped my arms around her leg. “Absolutely not! Emotional distress damages! If you don’t pay up, I am suing you too!” The scene spiraled into complete madness. The campus security guard suddenly appeared on a golf cart, a megaphone blaring loud enough to shake the trees. “Break it up! Public brawl on university property! All of you, straight to the disciplinary office!” Thirty minutes later, the four of us were lined up shoulder to shoulder against the wall of the security office. 2 Dean Higgins gripped his thermos, his mustache twitching with pure irritation. “Getting into a massive brawl at the front gates on the very first day of the semester! Call your parents! Now!” Tristan let out a cold scoff, pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. “Dad. I got detained on campus. Bring the checkbook and bail me out.” Serena pulled out her phone right on cue. “Dad. Tristan is causing trouble again. You need to get down here.” My brain immediately caught the massive blind spot. Why did their tone of voice sound exactly like they were calling the same household? Half an hour later, a sleek black Rolls Royce pulled up outside the administration building. A wealthy, heavy set man wearing a tailored suit marched through the double doors. Tristan pointed straight at Serena and started whining. “Dad, she tried to steal my VIP parking spot this morning and cursed me out.” Serena grabbed the wealthy man’s arm and put on a spectacular crying face. “Dad, my brother stole my spot and then beat up a random pedestrian to vent his anger.” Case closed. They were step-siblings. Dean Higgins cleared his throat and looked over at Jaxon and me. “Where are your guardians?” Jaxon kept his chin raised high in defiance. “I don’t have any parents. I’m an orphan.” Dean Higgins slammed his hand on the desk. “You literally filled out ‘both parents living’ on your registration forms last month! Cut the crap!” I quietly pulled out my ancient, shatter screen phone. “My mom guts fish at the seafood market down the street. She is on her way.” The second the words left my mouth, my mother kicked the office door open. She was wearing heavy waterproof rubber overalls completely coated in fish scales, and she was gripping a massive, razor sharp butcher cleaver. “Who did it! Who dared to lay a hand on my baby girl!” The air inside the security office turned instantly to ice. Tristan’s dad stumbled a full step backward in sheer terror. But when he looked up and caught a glimpse of my mother’s fierce, fiery energy, a weird, fascinated sparkle flashed in his eyes. Dean Higgins frantically waved his hands. “Mrs. Harper, please put the weapon down. Let us use our words.” My mom slammed the heavy meat cleaver directly onto the dean’s desk. She pointed a stained finger at my swollen, purple hand. “What happened to her hand? My daughter is on a full ride academic scholarship! How the hell is she supposed to take notes with a broken hand?” Jaxon guiltily averted his gaze to the ceiling. Mr. Sinclair waved his hand with the absolute arrogance of a billionaire. “It is just a matter of money. Spit it out. How much compensation do you want?” My mother’s eyes lit up like casino slot machines. She instantly switched into fish market haggling mode. “Medical bills, lost wages, and severe emotional distress. Add it all up, it is a flat fifty thousand dollars!” Mr. Sinclair let out a dry laugh. “Fifty thousand? Is her hand made of solid gold? Five thousand. Max.” “Forty five thousand! Not a penny less!” “Ten thousand! Take it or leave it!” “Deal!” My mom grabbed Mr. Sinclair’s hand and pumped it up and down. “You are a straightforward guy, boss. You wanna Venmo me or do you have cash on hand?” Mr. Sinclair totally froze. He clearly had not expected my mom to drop her price that violently, and he suddenly looked like a man who realized he just got scammed. But as he looked down at my mom’s calloused hand gripping his, the corners of his mouth twitched up into a tiny smile. “I will… use Venmo.” He gritted his teeth and scanned her QR code, but his eyes never left my mother’s face. My mom was entirely oblivious. She was busy counting the zeros on her screen. Once she verified the transfer, she flashed him a brilliant grin. “You are a good guy, boss. Next time you come to the market, I will give you a major discount on salmon!” The tips of Mr. Sinclair’s ears turned inexplicably red. He cleared his throat. “Sure.” Jaxon let out a massive sigh of relief, clearly thinking he had dodged a bullet. My mom slowly turned her head and locked eyes with him. “Kid. I watched the security footage. You were the one who stomped on her foot. You owe us ten thousand too.” Jaxon desperately patted down his pockets, pulling out two crumpled twenty dollar bills. “Ma’am, I am totally broke. Can I pay off my debt in physical labor?” 3 Because Jaxon couldn’t cough up the cash, Dean Higgins sentenced him to scrub the men’s restrooms for a solid month. I was walking around campus feeling like a millionaire with my ten thousand dollar payout, heading straight to the dining hall for a feast. Just as I passed the third floor men’s restroom, a foul, eye watering stench hit my nose. It wasn’t a bathroom smell. It was the smell of fermented garlic, ghost peppers, and canned anchovies. I peeked my head inside. Jaxon was sitting cross legged on the marble bathroom counter, viciously slurping down a massive container of the spiciest, smelliest seafood pasta on the planet. Right next to his food was a dripping mop he had just used to clean the toilets. The visual was just too powerful to ignore. I quietly pulled out my phone and started recording in stunning 4K. “Star athlete eats garbage in the campus restroom. I bet this hits the top of the university Reddit page in ten minutes.” Jaxon heard my voice and choked, spraying spicy noodles everywhere. He frantically scrambled off the counter, wiping his mouth and glaring at me like a cornered animal. “Harper! Delete that video right now!” I casually wiggled the phone in the air. “I will delete it, but it comes at a price. You are buying my lunch at the dining hall for a month. And I want meat. Real meat.” Jaxon ground his teeth together and agreed. The next day at noon, I sat at a cafeteria table like royalty, waiting for my meal to be served. Jaxon walked over with a plastic tray and slammed it down in front of me. I looked down. Boiled bitter melon, a pile of soggy carrots, wilted cilantro, and a bowl of unpeeled, boiled potatoes. “You call this meat?” Jaxon sneered. “There was a dead caterpillar in the bitter melon. Protein is protein. Eat it or starve.” I was so furious I slammed my fork down, grabbed the tray, and marched straight to the serving station to chew out the lunch lady. As I stormed up to the glass sneezeguard, I saw Serena standing there. She was holding a tiny leather notebook, actively debating the cafeteria worker. “Ma’am, this portion of braised pork costs fifteen dollars. There are exactly three pieces of meat in this scoop, and two of them are pure fat. Based on the current wholesale market price of pork belly, your profit margin is sitting at three hundred percent. That is illegal price gouging.” The metal serving spoon in the lunch lady’s hand shook violently. “Listen here, little girl. The university sets the portion rules. I just follow them.” Serena was absolutely relentless. “Show me the written policy. Pull up the binder. Otherwise, I am calling the state pricing commission to report you for fraud.” I was completely stunned. Was this the same girl who got chauffeured in a Ferrari and carried a ten thousand dollar bag? How was she cheaper than me? The lunch lady finally broke under the pressure. She aggressively scooped up a massive, perfect chunk of lean pork and dumped it onto Serena’s plate. “Fine! Take it! Just get out of my line!” Serena looked incredibly satisfied. As she walked past me with her prize, she leaned in to share her wisdom. “When dealing with these stingy servers, you just have to crush them with raw data.” I decided to copy her strategy. I stepped up to the glass and launched a verbal assault at the lunch lady. “Ma’am, the insect protein levels in this bitter melon are a serious health hazard. It could trigger an allergic reaction. Swap this garbage out for the BBQ ribs.” The lunch lady completely lost her mind. She threw her metal spoon straight into the vat of mashed potatoes. “I quit! You kids are a nightmare!” She ripped off her apron and walked out the back door. The massive line of hungry students groaned in despair. My brain short circuited. I practically vaulted over the glass counter, grabbed the heavy metal spoon, and yelled to the crowd. “Don’t panic! I got you guys! Step right up!” I served with absolute integrity. Massive, overflowing scoops of ribs and chicken. Not a single shake of the spoon. The students cheered like I was a superhero. The line wrapped completely out the doors of the building. Just as I was really getting into the rhythm, a middle aged man in a sharp business suit stormed into the kitchen, his face dark with fury. “Who the hell authorized you to serve food! You emptied an entire tray of ribs in ten minutes! You are bankrupting my dining hall!” The man aggressively snatched the spoon out of my hand. I took a good look at his face. Around the eyes, he looked remarkably like Tristan. “You are the owner of the cafeteria?” The man scoffed. “I am Tristan’s uncle. Arthur Sinclair. You must be Harper, the little scammer who extorted ten grand out of my older brother.” Crap. I walked right into the lion’s den. Arthur pointed a rigid finger at the exit doors. “You are blacklisted! You are never eating at any dining hall or restaurant I own ever again!” I was kicked to the curb, my stomach practically screaming in hunger. Jaxon stood on the sidewalk, laughing so hard he was gasping for air. “Karma is real. You got greedy, and now you don’t even get the bitter melon.” 4 Refusing to serve me food? The word “starve” does not exist in my dictionary. I turned right around and walked straight to an upscale, Michelin star French restaurant just off campus. A restaurant completely owned by Arthur Sinclair. I walked in and applied to be a waitress. If you won’t let me eat your cheap cafeteria food, I will infiltrate your high end establishment and eat you out of business from the inside. The general manager interviewed me. He saw how fast I moved and hired me on the spot for the dinner shift. That evening, Arthur brought a massive corporate client into the VIP dining room. Within twenty minutes, he was throwing an absolute tantrum. “This Wagyu steak tastes like wet cardboard! Get the chef out here!” The manager was sweating profusely as he sprinted into the back kitchen. “The boss’s condition is acting up again. He lost his sense of taste due to stress. Everything tastes like ash to him. What are we going to do?” I immediately volunteered. “Let me whip up a custom sauce. I guarantee it will wake up his tastebuds.” I grabbed the salt shaker, unscrewed the lid, and dumped half the container directly into the peppercorn demi glace. Then, I grabbed a bottle of pure habanero chili extract and dumped half of it in. If he couldn’t taste this, he might as well cut his tongue out. I proudly carried the heavily doctored steak into the VIP room. Arthur aggressively sliced off a piece and shoved it into his mouth. His face instantly turned paper white. Then beet red. Then a deep, alarming shade of purple. He violently jumped out of his chair, clutching his throat and frantically looking around. “Water! Get me water!” I helpfully handed him an ice cold glass of lemon water. Spiked heavily with white vinegar. Arthur chugged the entire glass. Tears exploded from his eyes. The corporate client was terrified. “Arthur! Are you having a medical emergency?” Arthur gasped for air, his chest heaving heavily. Suddenly, he threw his head back and burst into hysterical laughter. “Ha! I can taste it! It’s salty! It’s sour! My taste is back!” He lunged forward and grabbed both of my hands in pure gratitude. “Kid, what on earth did you put in that sauce? It’s a miracle cure!” I awkwardly pulled my hands away. “I just… added a little extra seasoning.” Arthur waved his hand grandly in the air. “From this day forward, any meal you eat at this establishment is entirely on the house!” To show his gratitude, Arthur insisted on making me an honorary VIP of the restaurant. He threw a massive dinner party and forced Tristan and Serena to attend. When Tristan walked in and saw me standing next to his uncle, his eyes practically bugged out of his skull. “Uncle Arthur, are you insane? She is a professional scam artist!” Arthur smacked Tristan right on the back of his head. “Show some respect! She is practically family now! Call her Auntie Harper!” Tristan clutched his head, his jaw clamped shut. He refused to speak. Serena, however, adapted immediately. She grabbed a champagne flute and slid right next to me. “Auntie Harper. If I come eat here, can I use your family discount?” I waved my hand like a mob boss. “I’ll get you eighty percent off.” Tristan was so angry he kicked a chair and stormed out. The next morning, a viral post exploded on the university’s anonymous gossip forum. Exposed: Local Ag-Science Major Sells Her Soul To Cafeteria Boss For Free Meals! The post painted me as a manipulative, gold digging psycho who would do absolutely anything for a free lunch. Every single comment was trashing me. I didn’t even need to use my brain to know exactly who posted it. I hunted down Arthur and managed to sweet talk him into giving me a specific old photograph. It was a picture of a ten year old Tristan, standing in the backyard butt naked and crying after wetting his bed. I pixelated the sensitive areas and uploaded it straight to the top of the forum. Headline: The Dark, Humiliating Childhood Secrets Of Our Ferrari Driving Bad Boy. The post broke the school servers. Tristan was sitting in his morning lecture when he saw the post. He literally passed out from sheer rage. When he regained consciousness, he marched straight to the agricultural greenhouse to hunt me down. “Harper! I challenge you to a duel!” I was busy tilling the soil with a heavy metal hoe. I didn’t even look up. “A duel in what? Farming? Because I will destroy you.” Tristan ground his teeth. “A panhandling contest! Whoever can beg for the most money at the front gates wins. The loser has to get on the campus radio and bark like a dog!” Begging for money? He was literally stepping into my professional arena. That weekend, outside the main university gates. Tristan was wearing artificially distressed designer jeans. He purposefully messed up his hair and placed a cracked ceramic bowl on the sidewalk in front of him. But his ego was too massive. He couldn’t bring himself to say a single word. He just sat there, glaring at people. Nobody gave him a dime. I, on the other hand, went full method actor. I wore my mom’s old rubber boots. I smeared charcoal dust across my cheeks. I brought a cheap plastic megaphone. “Ladies and gentlemen! Please have mercy! I have a rare, incurable disease, and my final wish is just to afford one last hot meal!” I was sobbing, tears streaming down my face. An absolute Oscar winning performance. Passersby were incredibly moved. Dollar bills kept raining into my bucket. Suddenly, Serena appeared out of nowhere. She tossed a crisp hundred dollar bill directly into my bucket. “Honestly, it’s a crime you aren’t a theater major. Here is a hundred. Teach me how to cry on command like that.” Seeing his own sister commit treason, Tristan furiously kicked his ceramic bowl into the street. “Serena! Whose side are you even on?!” Serena crossed her arms, completely unbothered. “I am on the side of high art, obviously.”

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1 My sister had seen object values since childhood. Through her gifts, she moved our parents from the slums to a river-view villa. On leave from the research institute, I found her showing off a stone in the living room. “Mom, Dad, this holds imperial green jade worth a fortune,” she claimed. Our parents fawned over it, touching it in awe. One glance told me the stone contained a deadly radioactive source. Panicked, I grabbed gloves and rushed to contain it. My mother shoved me back. “Jealous of your sister’s talent? Stop spouting nonsense!” With no choice, I suited up and cut it open. The dull gray mineral inside horrified me—but not them. My mother slapped me. “You ruined Serena’s treasure!” They stripped my suit and locked me in the storage room with the source to “reflect.” I pounded the door, bleeding from every orifice, until I died. When I opened my eyes, my sister was again holding that stone. This life, I would let them bask in their own blessed glow. Perhaps my gaze stayed on the stone too long, because Serena Brooks glanced at me suspiciously and hugged it closer. Then her eyes turned, and a smug smile spread across her face. Her tone was full of disdain. “Alyssa, you finally dragged yourself out of that shabby research institute? You work yourself to death for that tiny salary all year. It’s not even a fraction of what I make finding one bargain.” “If you ask me, quit already and come be my driver. At least then you’d contribute something to the family.” My parents immediately echoed her. My mother rolled her eyes, her voice thick with sarcasm. “Exactly, Alyssa. You were born without that kind of luck. You found some useless job and work yourself to the bone, but what you earn in a year can’t compare to one of Serena’s outings.” “You might as well come back and work for Serena. Maybe you can borrow a little of her luck and change that hard-life face of yours.” Their belittling and insults had long ago become routine whenever I came home. My ears were numb to it. They called me cursed, laughed that I had no fortune, then lifted Serena up as the family’s lucky star. As if my existence was only meant to highlight Serena’s luck. My face showed no emotion. I was too lazy to respond. I only wanted to find my documents quickly, so I mumbled something vague and turned toward the stairs. But my refusal to react displeased Serena. What she enjoyed most was watching me become humiliated and helpless. My calm gave her no satisfaction. So she grabbed my mother’s arm and shook it, malice glittering openly in her eyes. “Mom, since Alyssa is back, didn’t Grandma leave behind a silver bracelet? Why don’t we divide it today?” “Same old rules. You and Dad put the items in two boxes. This time, I’ll let her choose first, so she can’t keep whining behind our backs that you favor me.” She said it playfully, as if this were a fun game. She did not treat Grandma’s belongings as keepsakes, nor did she care about my feelings. This choose-one trick had long been her favorite way to humiliate me. Everyone knew she could see the value of objects. For her, this was never a fair choice. It was a rigged game, set up so she could laugh at my lack of fortune. At first, the boxes only contained toys or jewelry my parents bought. But later, when they saw I did not care about those things, they turned their attention to Grandma’s relics. Before Grandma died, she had clearly said those things were for me. But over the years, in Serena’s little games, she snatched them away one by one. Whether valuable or worthless, she refused to leave me even one memory. And this silver bracelet was the last thing Grandma had left behind. This game had finally reached the point where it should end. My mother skillfully took out two identical wooden boxes from the cabinet and placed them on the coffee table. She looked at me with a half-smile, unable to hide the mockery in her voice. “Alyssa, look how considerate Serena is. She’s even letting you pick first. Don’t be ungrateful.” My parents and Serena all stared at me. Their eyes shone with excitement, waiting for me to choose the empty box so they could mock me together. With memories from my previous life, I remembered exactly what was inside each box. Watching them struggle to suppress their smiles, I sneered inwardly and pointed directly at one of the boxes. “I want this one.” 2 My parents’ and Serena’s smiles froze instantly. They stared at me in disbelief. After a long silence, my mother forced herself to speak, bluffing. “Alyssa, I’ll give you one more chance. Think carefully. Everyone knows your luck is terrible. Are you sure you don’t want the other one?” I caught the undisguised shock in her eyes and shook my head firmly. “This one. Open it.” My words did not make them move. Instead, the three of them exchanged glances. After their eyes met, my mother suddenly pointed at me and shrieked. “Alyssa, did you peek when I was putting the things in?” Serena looked at me with contempt too. “You cheated even at a game. How boring. This round doesn’t count. We’re choosing again.” As soon as she said that, my parents snatched the boxes back and went into another room to switch them behind my back. They did not even bother asking my opinion. Soon, the two boxes were placed back on the coffee table. My mother pressed down on the lids as if guarding against a thief. “Choose.” Expressionless, I lifted my hand and pointed at one at random. This time, my parents finally relaxed. Serena immediately opened the other box and proudly snapped the silver bracelet onto her wrist. “I knew you cheated earlier. Alyssa, how could you possibly have good luck? A cursed thing like you thinks she can compare to a lucky star like me?” I curved my lips into a cold smile and slowly stepped back. I did not bother defending myself. She was right. From childhood to now, my luck had never compared to hers. Before Serena could even speak, my parents once pushed her out for a walk in her stroller. When they passed a scratch-off lottery stand, she grabbed one ticket and refused to let go. When my parents tried to take it, she cried loudly, so they had no choice but to buy it. That one scratch-off ticket changed our family’s life overnight. At first, everyone thought it was a coincidence. But as Serena grew older, every time she went out, she could bring back treasures worth thousands or even hundreds of thousands. Only then did my family quietly understand her special ability. As for me, I was not a cursed disaster star by nature. I was just an ordinary person who could not win the lottery. But compared with Serena’s glow, I looked especially unlucky. At first, my parents did not treat me too badly. I was their eldest daughter, after all. Although they favored the younger one, they still treated me decently. But as Serena brought the family more and more profit, they lifted her up as the treasure of the household. They obeyed her every wish and helped her push me down wherever they could. Over time, they truly began to hate me, the older sister Serena called cursed. For years, I endured silently. After all, the family had benefited because of her, and I had also enjoyed some of that comfort. As long as my giving in could maintain a surface-level peace at home, I did not argue. Even when Grandma’s belongings were taken from me one by one, I said nothing. But in my previous life, when I died in that storage room, blood pouring from every opening, I finally woke up completely. My parents and Serena had long since lost every trace of family affection toward me. In their eyes, I was only a toy for their amusement. Even if they killed me with their own hands, they would feel no guilt. Thinking of how, after my death, they lied to the outside world and said I had illegally researched radioactive materials and suffered the consequences, ruining my reputation and all my hard work, hatred surged inside me. My life had already been repaid to them. This time, it was their turn to taste Serena’s radiant luck. I had planned to take my documents and leave. But unexpectedly, Serena suddenly carried that deadly stone and strutted into my room. Then she shoved it right in front of my face. 3 The moment I saw the stone that had killed me in my previous life, every hair on my body stood up. I instinctively stepped back, my voice tightening. “Serena, why did you bring that thing here?” Right now, I had no protection on. I did not dare get close to the stone at all. Even though the radioactive material inside was still wrapped by rock, I did not want the slightest contact with it. Serena did not care. She only glanced at me dismissively, then looked around my room, her tone full of arrogance. “Why are you reacting so dramatically? Are you still bitter about losing the bracelet? That was your own bad luck.” “My treasure room is full. Dad already contacted someone to come this afternoon and turn half your room into storage shelves for me.” As she spoke, she pushed the stone even closer to my face, her eyes high and superior. “Don’t you have any sense? I’ve been holding it this long. Don’t you know to take it from me?” “Store this jade rough properly for me. If it gets chipped or damaged, selling you wouldn’t be enough to pay for it.” Seeing how guarded I remained, refusing to reach out no matter what, Serena sneered. Then she simply placed the mud-stained stone directly on my bed. She did not care that dirt and gravel spilled all over my sheets. Then she turned and walked away. Staring at that unremarkable stone, I felt the pain of radiation poisoning from my previous life sweep over me again. The memory was so vivid that cold sweat poured down my back. I did not dare delay. I hurried to take out a protective suit from my suitcase and put it on. Only then did I feel slightly able to breathe. I refused to spend another second in the same room as that lethal thing. I grabbed the documents I had found, stuffed them into my bag, and quickly headed out. “Alyssa, where are you going? Didn’t I tell you to watch my stone properly?” Just as I reached the living room, Serena’s questioning voice crashed down on me. When my mother heard it, she immediately joined in with sharp accusations. “Alyssa, this family raised you for so many years. Now you’re making excuses when we ask you to do one little thing?” “Go back and guard that treasure. If anything happens to it, I’ll hold you responsible.” Before she finished, she reached out and grabbed my arm, trying to drag me back to the room. Of course I was not willing to go down with their whole family beside that damned radioactive object. I struggled hard. During the struggle, my coat was accidentally pulled open, revealing the protective suit underneath. Serena had been yelling for Dad to come teach me a lesson. When she saw the suit, her face instantly darkened. Her suspicious gaze swept over the protective suit several times. Her voice became guarded. “Alyssa, why are you dressed like that at home?” At Serena’s question, my mother tightened her grip on my arm, as if she would not let go unless I explained. I sneered inwardly. What was there to say? In my last life, I had fought with all my strength to stop them from being harmed by radiation, only to be locked up and left to die. If I exposed the truth about the stone now, they might once again force me to cut it open, just like before. I would be the one to suffer again. Seeing me remain silent, Serena stepped closer. Her eyes were full of urgent suspicion, her tone sharper and sharper. “Alyssa, why are you acting mute? Wearing that creepy thing at home, are you trying to disgust us? Or did you hide something shameful in your room to harm the whole family?” As she spoke, she reached out to tear at my protective suit. 4 My heart tightened. I yanked myself free from my mother’s grip and stepped back, creating distance. Then I said coldly, “You’re overthinking. I’m wearing this because the institute recently received a batch of samples that might contain radioactive material. I’m used to taking precautions.” “I already said I’m busy today. I only came back to get some things. I don’t have time to watch your treasure.” “Radioactive material?” Serena instantly stepped several paces back and covered her mouth and nose, her face full of disgust. “You handled that kind of thing and still dared come home? Alyssa, how malicious can you be?” My mother quickly shook the hand that had touched my clothes, as if she had been contaminated by something filthy. Disgust nearly spilled out of her eyes. “I knew you were up to no good. Alyssa, get out of this house right now. Don’t come back if you don’t need to. Don’t bring bad luck to our family.” They cursed at me and shoved me toward the door. When the door slammed shut in front of me, the heart that had been hanging in my chest finally settled completely. Now I would not have to enjoy the radiation blessing with them. Not long after, news spread through the circle that the Brooks family had obtained an imperial green rough stone and would soon host an auction. Although the Brooks family had only risen in recent years as nouveau riche, Serena’s ability to find overlooked treasures had already attracted many admirers. This time, to witness the cutting of imperial green with their own eyes, business owners and jewelers came in endless waves, filling the banquet hall. At the banquet, Serena stood in the center holding the rough stone. Listening to the waves of praise around her, she smiled so widely her eyes narrowed into slits. Her face was full of pride. My parents stood beside her, surrounded by flattery. Their backs were straighter than ever, as if they had already reached the threshold of top-tier high society. From beginning to end, no one mentioned me, the Brooks family’s eldest daughter. It was as if I had never existed. Amid endless compliments, Serena grew even more pleased. She waved for my parents to bring over the cutting machine so everyone could see. The machine sliced down several times, peeling away the stone layer by layer. But the expected imperial green did not appear. What emerged was only a dull gray stone with somewhat unusual patterns. The smiles on the guests’ faces froze instantly. The banquet hall, noisy moments ago, suddenly fell into dead silence. People glanced at one another and began whispering in low voices. Serena’s smile froze too. Her eyes filled with confusion and panic. But under my parents’ anxious, helpless gazes, she forced herself to stay calm and promised confidently, “Mom, Dad, don’t panic. When have I ever missed?” “Even if this isn’t imperial green, look at these special patterns. It must still be a priceless treasure.” “It’s fine if we don’t recognize it. There are so many knowledgeable buyers here. Someone will know its value.” After saying that, she took a deep breath, picked up the cut stone, raised it high, and put a confident smile back on her face. “Everyone, although this isn’t imperial green, I’m sure you can see how unique it is.” “The starting bid for this stone is ten million. Anyone interested may begin bidding.” She waited expectantly for bids from the crowd. But what answered her was my mother’s shrill, distorted scream from behind. “Serena. You… Why is your nose bleeding so much?”

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